6f3 


6f 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


00022230006 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


From  the  Library  of 
GERTRUDE  WEIL 

1879-1971 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


http://archive.org/details/dearOOwhit 


DEAR 


Works  fog  tfje  &ame  ^utfjor. 


MISS    TOOSEY'S    MISSION,    AND 

LADDIE.     i6mo,  cloth $0.50 

TIP-CAT.     i6mo,  cloth 1.00 

OUR   LITTLE   ANN.     i6mo,  cloth      .       1.00 

PEN.     i6mo,  cloth 1.00 

LIL.     x6mo,  cloth 1.00 

ZOE.     i6mo,~  cloth 60 

ROSE     AND     LAVENDER.       i6mo, 

cloth 1. co 

PRIS.     i6mo,  cloth 50 

DEAR.     i6mo,  cloth 1.00 

BABY  JOHN.     i6mo,  cloth 50 


ROBERTS     BROTHERS,    PUBLISHERS, 
BOSTON. 


"She  was  there,  a  slight  figure  in  black."' —  Page  Sir. 


EAR. 


BY   THE  AUTHOR  OF 

MISS   TOOSEY'S   MISSION,  LADDIE,  TIP-CAT,  OUR   LITTLE   ANN, 

PEN,  LIL,  ZOE,  ROSE   AND   LAVENDER,  PRIS, 

BABY   JOHN. 


BOSTON: 

ROBERTS     BROTHERS. 

1892. 


Copyright,  1892, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


CONTENTS 


I. 

KINGSCOMBE    MANOR 

•      7 

II. 

THE    NEW    PARSON. 

21 

III. 

DEAR'S    DOMAIN 

.       40 

IV. 

LITTLE    DEAR    AND    CLIVE       . 

55 

V. 

RALPH    MADDISON     . 

•     73 

VI. 

BOY   AND    GIRL      . 

.         89 

VII. 

EVENING   AT    KINGSCOMBE 

.     99 

VIII. 

THE    SLEEPING    BEAUTY 

•       IX5 

IX. 

TWO    IS    COMPANY     . 

.  130 

X. 

INTO    FAIRY  LAND 

146 

XI. 

DAILY    LIFE      .... 

.  162 

XII. 

IN    THE    ORCHARD 

•       i77 

XIII. 

A    WOMAN'S    WILL     . 

.  191 

XIV. 

AWAY    FROM    DEAR 

209 

XV. 

WEDDING    BELLS 

.  224 

XVI. 

A   MOTHER'S    DOING       . 

•       237 

XVII. 

CAUSE    OR    IMPEDIMENT 

.  265 

xviii. 

PARTING 

.       283 

XIX. 

MEETING           .... 

■  299 

(5) 


DEAR. 

CHAPTER  I. 

KINGSCOMBE    MANOR. 

"  The  old  house  by  the  lindens 
Stood  silent  in  the  shade, 
And  on  the  gravelled  pathway 
The  light  and  shadow  played." 

— Longfellow. 

A  PEACEFUL  little  place  is  Kingscombe, 
lying  under  the  chain  of  hills  whose  beau- 
tiful outline  can  be  seen  for  many  a  mile  through- 
out Loamshire,  their  sides  clad  with  gorse  and 
heather,  and  with,  here  and  there,  sharp  bits 
of  gray  rock  sticking  out  through  the  turf  and 
making  the  tracks  steep  and  precipitous.  Over 
the  hill  sides  are  scattered  flocks  of  sheep,  and 
the  soft,  cracked  tinkle  of  the  sheep-bells  adds 
to  the  drowsy  peacefulness  of  the  scene. 

(7) 


8  DEAR. 

Kingscombe  itself  is  hardly  more  than  a 
handful  of  thatched  cottages  clustering  round 
the  little,  clumsy,  old  Norman  church ;  but 
Kingscombe  Manor  is  one  of  the  largest  gentle- 
man's seats  in  the  neighborhood,  and  the  park 
covers  many  an  acre  of  undulating  grass  land, 
and  wood  and  copse. 

But  at  the  time  when  my  story  begins,  the 
Manor  House  was  standing  empty,  with  all  the 
furniture  in  the  principal  rooms  shrouded  in 
brown  holland,  and  the  carpets  rolled  up  and 
the  shutters  closed,  and  only  a  superannuated 
housekeeper  and  one  maid  to  look  after  the 
place  and  keep  the  rooms  aired.  Outside,  the 
gardens  were  beginning  to  show — and  showed 
more  plainly  as  years  passed  on — that  no  one 
took  any  interest  in  the  planting  of  them ;  that 
the  gardener,  merely  from  force  of  habit,  kept 
up  a  certain  succession  of  flowers  in  the  bor- 
ders, and  set  the  boys  to  weed  the  paths  and 
mow  the  lawns.  As  long  as  the  baskets  sent 
up  twice  a  week  to  London  were  well  stocked 
with  fruit  and  vegetables,  and  with  cut  flowers 


K1NGSC0MBE  MANOR.  9 

for  setting  out  the  dining-table,  that  was  all 
that  signified,  so  the  gardener  did  not  waste  his 
time  in  devising  fresh  arrangements  or  effec- 
tive combinations  in  the  beds,  but  planted  great 
patches  of  sweet  peas  and  asters  and  carnations 
and  single  dahlias,  just  as  he  did  carrots  or 
beetroot  or  potatoes,  and  sheared  off  the  blos- 
soms ruthlessly  when  the  baskets  had  to  be 
despatched. 

"  My  lady,"  as  the  people  about  Kingscombe 
called  Mrs.  Maddison,  had  never  come  near  the 
place  since  the  old  Squire  died ;  she  had  never 
liked  it,  and  had  only  spent  any  time  there  to 
gratify  her  husband,  who  was  fond  of  the  old 
place  where  he  had  been  born  and  bred,  and 
where  the  wife  of  his  youth  lay  buried.  He 
had  married  for  the  second  time  when  he  was 
quite  an  old  man,  in  his  dotage,  his  friends 
maintained,  and  the  second  Mrs.  Maddison  was 
quite  a  young  girl,  young  enough  to  have  been 
his  granddaughter,  and  very  fond  of  society 
and,  report  said,  admiration. 

So,  when  the  old  Squire  died,  it  was  not  to 


IO  DEAR. 

be  expected  of  his  widow  that  she  should  bury 
herself  in  out-of-the-way  Kingscombe,  five  miles 
from  a  railway  station,  with  no  society  worth 
speaking  of  ;  and  still  less  that  she  should  waste 
any  of  the  money  she  knew  so  well  how  to 
spend,  in  keeping  up  a  large  establishment 
there,  with  a  lot  of  useless  old  servants,  who 
seemed  to  have  more  right  to  the  place  than 
she  had. 

So  the  establishment  was  reduced  to  its  very 
smallest  dimensions,  and  the  old  servants  dis- 
charged ruthlessly,  and  the  old  plate  packed  up 
and  dispatched  to  the  pretty  little  house  in 
May  Fair,  that  suited  my  lady's  taste  so  much 
better,  or  the  gay  little  villa  on  the  Thames, 
near  Richmond,  which  was  rustic  enough  for 
her  when  she  needed  a  change  from  London ; 
and  for  the  rest  of  the  year  there  was  country- 
house  visiting,  and  a  few  weeks  at  Cowes,  and 
a  run  to  one  of  the  German  Spas,  or  a  winter 
month  or  two  on  the  Riviera.  Who,  with  the 
whole,  beautiful,  gay  world  to  choose  from, 
would    ever    think  twice    of    dull,    dreary,    old 


KINGSCOMBE   MANOR.  II 

Kingscombe  Manor,  with  its  square,  matter-of- 
fact  brick  front,  and  its  sensible  sash  windows 
of  small  square  panes,  and  its  heavy  stone  por- 
tico, all  as  solid  and  uninteresting  as  the  build- 
ers of  the  end  of  the  last  century  could  make 
it,  just  like  the  country  squires  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, whose  society  bored  my  lady  so  unutter- 
ably ? 

Inside  it  was  quite  as  bad,  everything  so 
hopelessly  square  and  uncompromising,  and 
furnished  in  an  equally  distressing  manner, 
with  great  solid  furniture  of  hideous  form, 
upholstered  in  barbarous  colors,  huge  mirrors 
on  the  drawing-room  walls  with  scrolly  gilt 
frames,  and  a  suite  of  rosewood  furniture,  in- 
cluding a  large  round  table  in  the  centre  of 
the  room. 

"Think  of  that,  my  dear!"  Mrs.  Maddison 
wrote  to  sympathizing  friends  in  the  early 
days  of  her  married  life,  when  she  was  trying 
to  make  the  best  of  Kingscombe  ;  "  it's  enough 
to  break  one's  heart  to  look  at  it ! " 

And    no    doubt    it    was    a    trial    even    then, 


12  DEAR. 

when  aesthetic  tastes  were  the  exception  and 
not  the  rule,  and  would  have  been  still  more 
so  in  these  days  of  oddments,  when  not  a 
single  article  of  furniture  in  the  room  should 
bear  the  slightest  resemblance  to  its  neigh- 
bor. The  four-post  bedsteads  upstairs  might 
have  been  got  over,  and  perhaps  even  the 
shining  mahogany  of  the  dining-room,  >  with 
its  sarcophagus  of  a  sideboard,  if  only  the 
drawing-room  had  been  improvable,  or  if  there 
had  been  any  room  in  the  house  capable  of 
being  done  anything  with.  But  "  oh,  dear 
me ! "  Mrs.  Maddison  used  to  say  to  her- 
self surveying  her  own  appearance  in  the 
great  mirrors  in  the  drawing-room,  which  re- 
flected a  very  modern  little  person,  in  one  of 
Worth's  latests  confections,  and  with  hair  done 
in  that  artful  confusion  which  to  the  unin- 
structed  looks  like  simple  untidiness;  "there's 
no  doubt  I'm  quite  an  anachronism,  and  poor, 
dear  Fanny  " — for  so  she  spoke  to  herself  of 
the  first  Mrs.  Maddison — ''would  have  looked 
much   more  in  characte1*,  with    hair   done   like 


KINGSCOMBE   MANOR.  13 

window  curtains  on  such  a  painfully  high  fore- 
head, and  a  barley  sugar  ringlet  behind  each 
ear,  and  a  puce  silk  dress — I  think  they  called 
that  depressing  color  puce,  didn't  they  ? — 
trimmed  with  fringe."  For  an  oil-painting 
done  by  a  local  painter  hung  in  Mr.  Maddi- 
son's  dressing-room,  and  the  present  Mrs. 
Maddison  had  often  ruminated  over  the  ap- 
pearance of  her  predecessor. 

Everything  in  the  house  was  in  such  ter- 
ribly good  repair ;  indeed,  it  seemed  to  her 
that  such  solid  workmanship  was  never  likely 
to  wear  out  and  require  replacing,  and  that 
nothing  short  of  an  earthquake  would  make 
any  alteration  possible  in  Kingscombe  or  its 
substantial  drawing-room  suite. 

There  had  been  an  old  house  before  the 
present  building,  for  the  Maddisons  were  an 
old  family  in  Loamshire,  and  Kingscombe  had 
been  theirs  for  many  generations,  but  the  old 
mansion  had  been  burnt  down  when  George 
the  Third  was  king,  and  the  present  one  was 
built   in    its    place.     The    old    Squire    used    to 


14  DEAR. 

tantalize  his  young  wife  by  describing  what 
his  father  had  told  him  of  the  inconvenience 
and  quaintness  of  the  old  place,  of  its  ram- 
bling rooms,  and  up  and  down  floors  and  broad 
staircases,  and  diamond-paned  casement  win- 
dows and  open  fireplaces,  secret  rooms,  and 
concealed  passages.  "  Altogether  it  was,  by 
all  accounts,  a  most  uncomfortable,  creaky,  old 
barn,"  he  used  to  end  up  with,  "and  I  think 
we  may  consider  ourselves  very  lucky  to  have 
a  good  stout  roof  over  our  heads,  and  solid 
walls  that  don't  shake  and  shiver  at  every 
stormy  blast  of  a  winter's  night,  as  the  old 
place  used." 

Mrs.  Maddison  did  not  care  much  for  the 
beauties  of  nature,  or  she  might  have  found 
some  consolation  in  the  park,  where  some  of  the 
oaks  and  beeches  were  as  old  as  any  one  need 
wish,  and  she  also  might  have  found  antiquity 
in  the  little  church,  which,  as  I  have  said,  dated 
back  pretty  well  to  the  Norman  Conquest,  if 
her  sensitive  nerves  had  allowed  of  her  expos- 
ing them  to   the  irritation   of  a  country  choir. 


KINGSCOMBE   MANOR.  15 

Nor  was  it  to  be  expected  that  Mrs.  Maddi- 
son's  high-heeled  boots  should  have  climbed, 
in  her  search  for  beauty  and  picturesqueness, 
the  steep  hill  paths  behind  the  church,  where 
the  hairbells  nod  their  dainty  heads,  and  the 
wild  thyme  gives  a  sweet,  herby  scent  as  your 
foot  presses  it  down. 

So  when  the  old  Squire  died,  Mrs.  Maddi- 
son  disappeared  from  Kingscombe,  and  the 
house  stood  empty  year  after  year,  and,  as  I 
have  said,  the  gardens  grew  to  look  uncared 
for  and  the  house  desolate,  though  not  even 
desolation  could  make  it  the  least  picturesque ; 
only  the  paint  was  cracked  and  blistered,  and 
the  blinds  were  weather-stained  and  dirty,  and 
the  swallows  had  it  all  their  own  way  under 
the  portico. 

"  It  ain't  lucky  to  drive  'em  away,"  old  Sims 
the  gardener  used  to  say ;  "  they  brings  luck  to 
a  house,  folks  says,  though  luck  ain't  much  good 
to  an  empty  house  neither,  and  Miss  Dear  she's 
a  terrible  one,  she  be,  for  birds'  nesties  ;  she 
give  it  to  Dick  a  good  'un,  when  he  took  them 


1 6  DEAR. 

fly-catchers'  eggs,  as  did  ought  to  aknown  better ; 
but  eggs  is  eggs  to  a  boy,  and  they  don't  stop  for 
to  think  what  sort  of  bird  they  belongs  to. 
And  I  often  wonders  to  myself  what's  the  good 
of  putting  up  a  list  of  birds  as  ain't  to  be  touched 
in  the  school  yonder,  when  the  youngsters  don't 
know  half  the  names  on  'em,  let  alone  their 
elders." 

And  who  was  Miss  Dear?  perhaps  you  will 
ask,  whose  wrath  was  terrible  to  the  garden 
boys.  By  which  question  you  will  show  that 
you  are  altogether  a  stranger  to  Kingscombe, 
and  to  the  country  for  some  distance  round. 

She  had  been  the  ruling  spirit  of  the  place 
from  the  time  when  she  first  appeared  at  Kings- 
combe, I  think  at  the  age  of  two  and  a  half,  in 
a  very  large  sun-bonnet,  not  one  of  the  modern 
Kate  Greenaway  constructions  which  make  such 
quaint,  little  pictures  of  our  children  nowadays, 
but  a  regular  countrywoman's  lavender  print 
bonnet,  with  a  curtain  falling  below  the  waist  of 
the  faded  drab  pelisse,  which  was  evidently  not 
intended  for  such  a  determined  little  walker  as 


KINGSCOMBE   MANOR.  17 

Dear,  being  so  long  that  it  swept  the  ground 
behind,  and  was  in  constant  danger  of  tripping 
up  the  young  feet  in  front,  if  it  were  not  held 
up  by  the  determined  baby  hands. 

It  was  in  this  fashion  that  Dear  first  appeared 
before  the  astonished  eyes  of  Kingscombe,  as- 
tonished and  disapproving,  for  even  in  these 
few,  out-of-the- world  cottages,  nestling  under  the 
hill,  there  was  a  certain  code  of  propriety  in 
dress,  and  it  was  an  offence  against  this  code 
that  "parson's  little  maid  "  should  be  no  better 
dressed  than  that. 

"It's  plain  to  see  that  she  ain't  no  mother 
and  only  half  a  father,  as  one  might  say." 

But  they  soon  settled  it  among  themselves 
that  the  new  parson — (they  called  him  the  new 
parson  for  ten  years  and  more,  with  the  con- 
servatism of  country  places,)  though  he  was 
only  half  a  father  and  hardly  to  be  reckoned  a 
man — was  more  than  half  an  angel,  though  there 
was  no  doubt  that  for  practical  purposes,  such 
as  roast  mutton  and  rice  puddings,  pinafores 
and  flannel  vests,  a  more  human  parent  would 


1 8  DEAR. 

have  been  as  well  for  Dear  and  the  boy.  He 
was  not  angelic  in  outward  appearance  either, 
being  small  and  lean  and  rather  bald,  and  apt 
to  wrinkle  his  face  into  sudden  and  odd  grim- 
aces, and  to  stand  in  grotesque  positions,  and  to 
give  little  grunts  and  queer  ejaculations,  ap- 
parently unconnected  with  outside  events. 

He  was  painfully  absent-minded,  and,  till 
Dear  reached  such  years  of  discretion  (which, 
I  believe,  took  place  at  six)  as  enabled  her  to 
attend  to  his  appearance,  would  sometimes  scan- 
dalize the  good  folks  of  Kingscombe  by  his  attire. 

He  had  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  had 
passed  through  the  burning  fiery  furnace  of 
work  in  an  East-end  parish,  where,  except  for 
that  same  Presence,  which  was  with  the  three 
children  of  old,  the  strongest,  noblest,  greatest 
nature  must  needs  be  utterly  consumed;  but 
twenty  years  of  such  work  and  in  such  Com- 
pany could  hardly  fail  to  make  a  man  little 
short  of  an  angel. 

Then  his  health  broke  down ;  he  had  never 
been  strong,  but  like  many  delicate  instruments, 


KINGSCOMBE   MANOR.  ig 

he  outlasted  many  more  substantial ;  and  then, 
when  the  few  friends  he  had  who  were  in  a 
position  to  see  the  morning  papers,  expected 
daily  to  see  the  announcement  of  his  death, 
they  read  to  their  amazement  the  notice  of  his 
marriage,  and,  on  further  inquiry,  found  that  he 
had  married,  or  rather  been  married  by,  a  pretty, 
gay,  little  school-girl  of  eighteen,  without  a 
penny  of  her  own,  and  with  hardly  a  relation. 

It  was  entirely  her  doing ;  it  would  never  have 
occurred  to  his  mind,  whatever  it  might  have 
done  to  his  heart,  and  the  only  excuse  for  this 
idiotic  marriage,  as  indeed  it  is  the  only  excuse 
for  any  marriage,  idiotic  or  otherwise,  was  that 
they  loved  one  another. 

She  was  sure  she  could  make  him  happy,  and 
so  she  did. 

"  It  will  not  be  for  very  long,  dear,"  he  said. 
Nor  was  it,  but  it  was  not  ended  as  he  meant 
when  he  spoke  thus,  nor  as  she  understood  him 
when  she  answered  by  clasping  her  strong, 
young  arms  round  his  neck,  as  if  she  never 
would  let  him  go,  as  if  she  could  drive  back 
death  by  the  strength  of  her  love. 


20  DEAR. 

He  took  a  seaside  curacy,  and  they  were  very 
poor  and  perfectly  happy,  and,  having  accepted 
the  curacy  because  there  was  not  much  to  do, 
he  at  once  set  about  making  work  for  himself  in 
all  directions,  till  ultimately  his  days  were  nearly 
as  much  filled  up  as  they  were  in  London. 

She  was  not  a  very  good  manager — what  girl 
of  eighteen  is  ?  and  he  was  much  too  vague  and 
unworldly  to  help  her,  so  they  got  into  money 
difficulties,  which  worried  and  tormented  them, 
and  would  have  upset  their  happiness  altogether 
if  it  had  not  been  too  deeply  rooted. 

Then  Dear  came  and  then  the  boy,  and  the 
following  winter,  after  just  two  days'  illness,  the 
young  mother  died,  neither  she  nor  her  husband 
seeming  to  realize  that  the  parting  which  they 
had  anticipated  from  the  first  had  come,  only 
with  their  respective  parts  reversed,  that  it  was 
she  that  was  taken  and  he  that  was  left,  till  he 
awoke  to  the  fact  that  the  boy,  three  months 
old,  was  screaming  lustily  in  his  cradle,  and  that 
two-year-old  Dear  was  trying  vainly  to  quiet 
him  by  pushing  a  much-dilapidated  doll  into 
the  crimson,  unappreciative  countenance- 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE    NEW    PARSON. 

"  That  He  so  many  years  to  us  has  lent 
From  the  rich  store  of  His  vast  treasury 
That  life  so  simple,  earnest,  innocent." — F.  C. 

TT  was  six  months  after  his  wife's  death  that 
Mr.  Hume  was  presented  to  the  living  of 
Kingscombe.  It  was  not  particularly  good,  or 
else  it  would  hardly  have  fallen  to  his  share,  and 
Mrs.  Maddison,  in  whose  gift  the  living  was, 
was  quite  indifferent  in  the  matter,  as  she  had 
no  intention  of  residing  at  Kingscombe  herself, 
and  had  no  troublesome  feeling  of  responsibility 
as  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  the  place.  So 
when  the  name  of  Michael  Hume  was  mention- 
ed to  her  by  a  friend  of  a  friend  of  a  friend  of 
his,  she  made  no  inquiries  as  to  his  fitness  for 

(21) 


22  DEAR. 

the  charge,  but  wrote  by  the  next  post  to  offer 
it  to  him. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  children  I  think  he 
would  have  declined  it,  as  it  had  come  too  late 
to  give  Annie  the  pleasure  it  might  have  done 
a  year  before.  A  good  part  of  him  seemed  to 
have  died  with  her>  and  to  have  been  buried  in 
the  little,  wind-swept,  sea-side  cemetery,  where 
he  and  Dear  went  so  often  to  look  at  the  name- 
less grave, — or  rather  perhaps  to  have  followed 
her  to  the  quiet  land  where  her  innocent  gentle 
soul  was  in  safe  keeping.  It  seems  to  me  that 
Annie's  husband  died  with  her,  that  death  really 
could  not  part  them,  while  the  father  of  Dear 
and  Clive  lived  on.  I  think,  too,  that  the  hard- 
working, energetic  parish  priest  died  then,  but 
the  holy,  gentle  man  of  God  lived  on  to  be  a 
comfort  and  solace  and  bright  example  to  many 
at  Kingscombe  in  after  years. 

There  were  all  sorts  of  stories  in  the  village 
about  the  new  parson's  first  arrival,  stories  which 
were  told  with  indignation  and  reprobation  at 
first,  and  then  with  amusement  and  indulgence, 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  23 

as  one  might  recount  the  doings  of  a  favorite 
but  whimsical  child.  They  told  how  he  arrived 
quite  unexpectedly,  walking,  having  carried  the 
baby  all  those  dusty  five  miles  from  Great 
Cheriton,  losing  his  way  more  than  once  and  so 
adding  to  the  distance,  and  made  his  way  at 
once  to  the  church  without  even  asking  which 
was  the  vicarage.  He  sat  down,  fairly  spent,  in 
the  church  porch,  and  was  nearly  turned  out  by 
old  Grimby  the  sexton,  who  took  him  for  a 
tramp,  not  being  able  to  grasp  the  notion  that 
such  a  dusty,  shabby  little  object,  with  a  dirty- 
faced  baby  asleep  in  his  arms,  could  be  the  new 
parson  and  successor  to  trim,  well-brushed  Mr. 
Clifford,  who  always  looked  as  if  he  had  just 
stepped  out  of  a  bandbox.  And  when  it  was 
made  known  who  he  was,  nothing  would  serve 
him  but  that  Grimby  must  fetch  the  key  of  the 
church,  and  he  went  in  and  knelt  ever  so  long 
on  the  chancel  step,  with  that  blessed  baby 
asleep  on  a  cushion  he  fetched  out  of  the  Squire's 
pew,  and  he  took  no  notice  of  Grimby's  loud 
whispers,  or  even  a  nudge  to  which  the  old  man's 


24  DEAR. 

impatience  led  him,  and  it  was  only  the  baby 
waking  up  and  rolling  off  the  cushion  with  a 
howl  that  brought  him  to  a  sense  of  the  present 
emergency,  and  to  the  recollection  that  he  had 
a  baby's  bottle  in  one  of  his  pockets  and  a 
packet  of  some  sort  of  farinaceous  food  in  the 
other,  and  that  these  two  must  be  brought  to 
bear  in  some  way  upon  the  baby. 

It  brought  also  to  his  memory  that  Dear  had 
been  left  behind  with  the  luggage  at  Great 
Cheriton,  a  position  which  most  children  of  two 
and  a  half  would  have  resented  even  for  a  few 
minutes,  but  which  Dear  took  very  calmly,  being 
of  a  naturally  placid  nature,  and  having  found 
from  experience,  which  though  short  had  been 
wide,  that  humankind  is  generally  good  to 
small  creatures,  and  that  the  masculine  part  of 
humanity  in  particular,  however  gruff  to  start 
with,  nearly  always  becomes  amiable  on  further 
acquaintance. 

So  Mr.  Hume  was  hardly  out  of  sight  before 
Dear  had  found  her  way  into  the  good  graces 
of  a  couple  of  porters,  who  invited  her  into  the 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  2$ 

parcels-office  and  made  her  welcome  to  a  share 
of  their  dinner,  from  whence  she  passed  to  the 
station-master's,  who  had  a  cat  in  his  room  and 
a  box  of  biscuits,  over  which  he  and  Dear  became 
such  friends  that  he  was  quite  disappointed  when 
a  cart  came  over  from  Kingscombe  to  fetch  the 
child,  having  decided  to  take  her  home  with  him 
to  spend  the  night  and  amuse  his  wife. 

It  was  one  of  the  porters'  wives  who  supplied 
the  lavender  print  sun-bonnet  which  offended 
the  eyes  of  the  Kingscombe  people  at  Dear's 
first  appearance,  for  her  hat  had  been  blown  out 
of  a  window  in  the  train,  and  Mr.  Hume  had  no 
further  idea  of  remedying  the  loss  except  by 
tying  his  handkerchief  round  the  curly  head. 

It  was  long  after  dark  that  Dear  arrived  at 
Kingscombe,  the  gray  horse  being  slow  and 
requiring  a  good  deal  of  rest,  a  necessity  which 
arose  whenever  a  public-house  came  in  view  on 
the  road.  And,  while  the  horse  rested,  Tom 
Clegg  the  driver  went  in  to  have  "a  tell"  and  a 
drain  of  cider  with  the  host,  a  refreshment  which 
would  have  been  extended  to  Dear  if  she  had 


26  DEAR. 

not  happily  fallen  asleep.  Luckily,  too,  the  gray 
horse,  though  slow,  knew  his  way  home,  and 
paid  no  attention  to  the  erratic  directions  of 
Tom,  who,  after  such  frequent  refreshment  on 
the  road,  was  less  distinct  in  his  vision,  both 
mental  and  physical,  than  would  have  been  safe 
with  a  less  intelligent  quadruped. 

But  old  Dapple  flopped  down  hill  and 
scrambled  up  hill  and  jogged  along  the  level 
with  admirable  steadiness,  and  Dear  was  as 
unconscious  of  the  jolts  and  bumps  of  the 
cart  as  of  the  confused  conversation  of  the 
driver. 

The  vicarage  at  Kingscombe,  in  Mr.  Clifford's 
time,  had  been  as  trim  and  well-kept  as  its 
master,  with  a  neat  little  garden  and  a  smart 
dog-cart  and  fast-going  mare,  and  a  dapper 
groom  and  dignified  housekeeper.  But  all 
this  vanished  with  the  new  vicar's  appearance  ; 
he  kept  no  vehicle  except  a  perambulator,  of 
which  he  was  the  only  driver  ;  the  garden  was 
left  to  take  care  of  itself,  except  when  any  one 
in  the  village  wanted  a  job  or  had  an  hour  to 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  27 

spare,  when  they  turned  in  and  dug  and  hoed 
according  to  each  one's  ideas  as  to  the  necessary 
work  required.  Now  and  then  they  would  go 
to  the  parson  for  payment  for  this  purely 
voluntary  work,  or  sometimes  they  would  pay 
themselves  with  a  few  potatoes  or  a  basket  of 
apples,  the  least  scrupulous  among  them  being 
prevented  from  taking  undue  advantage  by  the 
perfect  confidence  placed  in  them.  But  as  time 
went  on  and  the  little  parson  became  better 
known,  payment  of  any  sort  was  no  longer 
thought  of,  and  the  lads  used  to  come  up  in 
parties  to  do  the  vicarage  garden,  till  its  neat- 
ness and  order  became  quite  the  pride  of  the 
village,  and  it  was  a  sort  of  point  of  honor 
that  the  vicarage  garden  should  have  the  first 
and  the  best  of  everything.  Indeed,  one  year, 
at  the  Cheriton  Cottagers'  Flower  Show,  Bill 
Price  got  into  serious  hot  water  and  lost  the 
prize  for  vegetable  marrows,  by  taking  the 
largest  from  his  garden  and  putting  it,  with  as 
much  art  as  his  simplicity  was  capable  of, 
against  a  plant  in  the  parson's  garden,  which 


28  DEAR. 

had  never  done  well  in  spite  of  the  care 
lavished  on  it,  and  whose  yellow  and  spindly 
branches  could  hardly  be  believed  capable  of 
producing  such  a  monster,  still  less  that  it  could 
have  been  produced  in  one  night. 

He  got  no  credit  either  from  the  very  person 
he  meant  to  benefit,  and  on  whose  behalf,  I 
am  sorry  to  say,  he  told  a  terrible  number  of 
blundering  and  contradictory  untruths,  for  Mr. 
Hume  was  deeply  concerned,  and  treated  the 
whole  affair  as  not  only  a  discredit  to  Price 
but  to  all  the  village,  and  specially  to  himself, 
who  should  have  taught  his  people  a  higher 
code  of  honor  and  truthfulness. 

As  to  indoor  servants,  he  actually  engaged 
Patty  Mills,  in  spite  of  the  open  remonstrances 
of  the  whole  parish ;  indeed,  everything  urged 
against  her  seemed  an  additional  reason  for 
taking  her,  to  his  peculiarly-constituted  mind. 

"Her  never  keeps  her  places." 

"  Mrs.  Tompkins,  up  t'  Hill  Farm,  said  as 
how  she  couldn't  keep  her  another  day,  were  it 
ever  so,   as   couldn't  keep   her   fingers   out   of 


THE  NEW   PARSON.  29 

anything,  and  that  impident,  as  there  wasn't 
no  bearing  her  sauce." 

But  there  was  worse  than  this  against  her 
character.  Every  one  had  some  tale  to  tell 
of  her  unsteadiness,  dishonesty,  untruthful- 
ness, laziness ;  all  the  stories  more  or  less 
true,  and  any  one  of  which  would  have  pre- 
vented ordinary  people  from  engaging  such  a 
servant. 

Patty  felt  that  her  chances  were  very  small, 
as  she  stood  before  the  new  parson,  rolling  a 
corner  of  a  dirty  apron  in  her  fingers  ;  it  hardly 
seemed  worth  while  to  be  civil,  and  to  resist 
her  inclination  to  laugh, openly  at  his  necktie, 
twisted  round  under  one  ear,  and  his  waistcoat 
buttoned  up  wrong. 

It  was  just  a  chance  that  some  of  the  im- 
pudence Mrs.  Tompkins  had  found  so  intoler- 
able did  not  come  out ;  but,  somehow,  in  spite 
of  his  oddity,  it  was  not  easy  to  be  impudent 
to  Mr.  Hume,  and,  perhaps,  he  spoke  before 
she  had  time. 

"  Could  you  come  at   once?"     he   said;  "it 


30  DEAR. 

would   be  a   great    convenience   to  me   if  you 
could  do  so." 

And  then  he  held  out  his  hand  to  her,  and 
his  face  wrinkled  up  into  the  oddest,  kindliest 
of  smiles. 

"  I  am  sure  you  will  do  your  best,"  he  said ; 
"  and  I  hope  my  little  ones  will  not  be  trouble 
some." 

It  was  such  a  very  unusual  way  of  engaging  a 
servant,  that  Patty  drew  back,  thinking  he  was 
making  game  of  her,  and  this  might  be  some 
way  that  gentlefolks  had  of  scorning  and  scath- 
ing a  girl  with  no  character  to  speak  of,  who 
presumed  to  apply  for  a  situation.  But  the 
clasp  of  a  bony  hand  was  reassuring,  and 
Patty  felt  an  unusual  choking  sort  of  feeling 
in  the  throat,  and  a  dimness  in  her  eyes,  and 
a  feeling  about  her  heart  that  there  was  some 
good  in  her  after  all,  and  that  she  would  show 
the  Kingscombe  people  that  she  was  not  so 
bad  as  they  thought  her. 

She  really  did  wonderfully  well  at  first ;  it 
seemed  as  if  it  was  just  what   she  wanted,  to 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  31 

be  believed  in,  to  be  treated  as  trustworthy, 
not  to  be  watched  and  regarded  with  suspi- 
cion, not  to  have  her  previous  shortcomings 
kept  constantly  before  her.  But,  of  course,  it 
did  not  last,  and  the  Kingscombe  people  were 
quite  right  in  their  wise  remarks  about  "new 
brooms,"  and  "we  shall  see  what  we  shall  see, 
by  and  by." 

It  was  after  she  had  been  there  about  three 
months  that  a  sudden  temptation  overcame 
her,  and  she  opened  a  drawer  in  Mr.  Hume's 
room,  and  took  a  five-pound  note,  and,  along 
with  it,  a  little  old  watch  that  had  belonged 
to  Mrs.  Hume,  and  was  being  kept  for  Dear. 

She  was  miserable  as  soon  as  she  had  done 
it,  more  especially  as  no  one  dreamed  of  sus- 
pecting her ;  and  Mr.  Hume  was  so  absent- 
minded  and  forgetful,  that  he  set  any  loss  down 
to  his  bad  memory,  which  had  forgotten  where 
he  had  put  the  object  in  question.  She  grew 
careless  and  neglectful  in  her  work,  and  as 
nearly  impudent  as  she  could  manage  to  her 
master,  and   rough   and    short-tempered  to  the 


32  DEAR. 

children,  and  at  last  went  off,  without  asking 
leave,  one  afternoon,  and  was  brought  back, 
late  at  night,  from  Great  Cheriton,  in  charge 
of  a  policeman  ;  having  had  a  good  deal  more 
beer  than  was  good  for  her,  and  having  drawn 
suspicion  on  herself  by  trying  to  sell  the  gold 
watch  at  the  pawnbroker's  there,  who,  although 
it  was  not  of  any  great  value,  felt  sure,  from 
the  look  of  the  thing,  and  the  manner  of  the 
girl,  that  it  had  not  been  honestly  come  by,  and 
sent  for  the  police. 

The  five-mile  drive  in  the  light  cart  from 
Cheriton  had  sobered  Patty,  and  as  they  drew 
near  Kingscombe  she  did  her  utmost  to  per- 
suade Constable  Brown  to  let  her  go, — to  take 
her  back  to  the  Cheriton  lock-up, — to  keep  the 
money  and  the  watch  and  say  no  more  about 
it, — to  take  it  back  to  her  master  and  say  he 
could  keep  her  box  and  clothes  and  she  would 
never  come  near  Kingscombe  again, — to  stop  at 
that  pond  by  the  roadside  and  let  her  throw 
herself  in  and  end  her  miserable,  good-for- 
nothing    life, — anything   was   better,  it  seemed, 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  33 

than    facing  the   only  person  in  the  world  who 
had  believed  in  her  and  never  suspected  her. 

The  constable  drove  woodenly  on,  paying 
little  attention  to  Patty's  entreaties,  except  when 
they  neared  the  pond,  and  the  girl  made  a 
movement  as  if  she  would  have  jumped  out  of 
the  cart,  when  he  kept  her  firmly  down  with  his 
elbow,  and  felt  for  the  handcuffs  in  his  coat- 
pocket. 

"  Now  look  here,"  he  said,  "  my  good  girl,  it's 
not  a  bit  of  use  making  a  kick-up.  I've  got  to 
take  you  to  the  Reverend  Hume,  and  you've  got 
to  go." 

Upon  which  she  subsided  into  sullen  despair, 
with  a  lingering  hope  of  a  sudden  bolt  when 
Kingscombe  Vicarage  was  reached,  which  Con- 
stable Brown  was  too  wide  awake  to  permit. 

The  kitchen  blind  was  not  drawn  down,  and, 
as  they  passed,  they  could  see  the  little  parson, 
with  a  very  anxious,  absorbed  face,  and  his  coat 
off,  and  a  saucepan  in  one  hand  and  a  spoon  in 
the  other,  while  their  noses  were  saluted  with 
the  odor  of  burnt  milk. 
3 


34  DEAR. 

In  front  of  the  fire  sat  Dear  in  her  night- 
gown, with  small,  pink  feet  stuck  out,  sharing 
a  bit  of  bread  and  butter  with  a  mangy  sheep- 
dog from  the  farm,  which  got  up  at  once  and 
slunk  out,  with  its  tail  between  its  legs,  at  the 
first  glance  of  Patty's  eye,  though  that  eye 
had  no  longer  the  fire  and  sharpness  of  old 
days,  which  made  a  dog  feel  as  if  the  thrash- 
ing had  already  begun  when  it  turned  in  his 
direction  ;  and  from  the  next  room  came  the 
sound  of  Clive's  voice,  half  naughtiness,  half 
hunger,  demanding  the  long-delayed  supper. 

"  It  really  were  the  queerest  start  I  ever  came 
across  ! "  Police-constable  Brown  used  to  say, 
even  his  wooden  imperturbability  shaken  by  the 
unusual  character  of  the  scene.  "  There  was 
that  gal,  as  impident  a  baggage  as  you'd  come 
across  between  this  and  London,  with  a  tongue 
as  would  sauce  the  Queen  on  her  throne,  and 
fists  as  she  could  use  too,  come  to  that !  and  she 
sunk  down  of  a  heap  by  the  door  soon  as  ever 
the  parson  looked  at  her,  like  as  if  she'd  been 
knocked  over.     He   did'nt  say  nothing  to  her, 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  35 

only  speaks  pleasant  and  friendly-like  to  me — 
quite  the  gentleman,  mind  you,  all  the  time — ■ 
though  he  hadn't  got  no  coat  on,  and  kep' 
stirring  the  baby's  food." 

"  '  Come  in,  Mr.  Constable,'  he  says,  '  and  take 
a  cheer.  You'll  be  glad  of  a  bit  of  supper,  but 
you'll  excuse  my  seeing  to  the  young  folks  first.' 
And  while  he  stirred  the  food  and  tried  to  get 
it  cool,  I  told  him  what  the  girl  had  been  up  to 
in  Cheriton,  and  I  brings  out  the  watch  and  asks 
if  he  knows  it.  He  did  flash  up  a  bit  then,  and 
dropped  the  spoon,  and  took  the  watch  out  of 
my  hand  all  of  a  hurry,  as  if  he  couldn't  abear 
to  see  one  touch  it.  '  Know  it ! '  he  says,  '  of 
course  I  know  it ;  it  was  my  wife's ;'  and  he  stood 
holding  it,  while  I  told  him  how  she'd  abeen 
trying  to  sell  it  at  Mr.  Atkins,  and  how  she'd 
changed  a  five-pound  note  at  the  Percy  Arms. 
She  never  said  a  word  all  the  time,  but  just 
crouched  down  in  the  corner  by  the  door,  with- 
out nothing  to  say  for  herself.  And  then  he  put 
down  the  watch,  kind  of  quiet,  as  if  he  felt  fond 
like   over   it,    and   pushed   it   across    the    table 


36  DEAR. 

towards  Patty,  and  went  back  to  the  stirring  of 
the  food  ;  and  the  little  one  by  the  fire  got  up 
and  pattered  across  with  her  little  bare  feet  on 
the  bricks,  and  put  her  hands  around  the  girl  in 
her  pretty  baby  way,  saying,  '  Don't  cry,  Patty, 
don'tee  cry ! '  and  the  girl  caught  her  up  and 
hugged  her  so  close  as  must  ahurt  the  little 
thing,  though  she  didn't  do  nothing  but  stroke 
her  face  and  say,  '  Poor  Patty,  don't  cry ! ' 
And  what  do  you  think  was  the  end  of  it,  sir  ? " 
Constable  Brown  always  ended  the  story.  ■  "  Why 
if  the  parson  didn't  say  as  he'd  given  her 
the  watch,  as  if  any  one  were  likely  to  believe 
that — not  as  it  were  a  lie,"  the  man  always 
added  quickly,  lest  any  one  should  imagine  for  a 
moment  that  he  cast  any  reflection  on  Mr.  Hume, 
who  soon  held  a  firmly-established  reputation 
for  saintliness  in  all  the  country  round,  "  for  he 
gave  it  to  her  just  then,  when  he  pushed  it  across 
the  table.  '  And  as  for  the  money,'  says  he,  '  its 
an  advance  of  her  wages.  And  now,  Patty/ 
he  says,  '  if  you'll  kindly  see  to  baby  first,  we 
shall  be  glad  of  a  bit  of  supper.'     She  was  like 


THE   NEW    PARSON.  37 

mazed  just  at  first,  more  dumbfoundered  even 
than  me,  who  was  just  a  fool  for  my  pains,  and 
had  had  my  drive  over  to  Kingscombe  for  noth 
ing,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  child  cling- 
ing to  her,  she'd  have  thrown  herself  right  down 
at  his  feet,  kind  of  grateful  like,  and  she  made  as 
if  she'd  have  caught  his  hand  and  kissed  it,  only 
he  held  out  the  spoon  that  he  had  been  stirring 
the  baby's  food,  as  if  he  thought,  and  perhaps 
he  did,  that  it  was  that  she  was  reaching  after." 

Constable  Brown  did  not  know — nor  did  any 
one  except  Patty  and  her  master — the  end  of 
the  story,  which  indeed  did  not  end  till  their 
lives  ended  too.  That  five  pound  wages  ad- 
vanced represented  to  Patty  the  wages  for  all 
the  rest  of  her  life,  wages  only  to  be  earned  by 
unremitting  labor,  morning  and  night,  early 
and  late,  with  self-gratification  or  rest  or  com- 
fort put  clean  out  of  sight. 

Of  course,  Mr.  Hume  did  not  regard  it  in  this 
light.  The  five  pounds  was  deducted,  neither 
more  nor  less,  and  then  the  wages  paid  as  usual 
in  spite  of  Patty's  vigorous  resistance.     But  he 


3$  DEAR. 

could  not  prevent  her  spending  most  of  these 
unwillingly-received  wages  on  the  children, 
and — until  Dear  arrived  at  those  years  of  discre- 
tion afore-mentioned,  and  undertook  the  general 
management  of  the  parish — Patty  in  her  burn- 
ing gratitude  stripped  herself  of  the  barest  nec- 
essaries, almost  decencies  of  life,  till  the  whole 
village  was  loud  in  its  condemnation  of  her 
washed-out  prints  and  patched  aprons,  which 
were  a  disgrace  to  the  parson's  situation. 

But  as  to  the  watch,  that  was  the  hardest, 
bitterest  punishment  to  Patty.  He  would  never 
take  it  back  nor  let  Dear  or  Clive  have  it ; 
many  and  many  a  time  she  put  it  into  his  room, 
in  the  drawer  from  which  she  had  taken  it,  in 
boxes  and  corners  where  she  knew  he  hardly 
ever  looked.  Inattentive  and  vague  as  he  was 
in  most  matters,  he  seemed  always  keen  and  on 
the  alert  in  this  matter,  and  the  watch  was 
always  restored  to  her  within  a  very  short  time 
of  her  attempt  at  giving  it  back. 

It  made  it  all  the  worse  to  her  as  time  went 
on  and  she  knew  her  master  better,  and  found 


THE   NEW   PARSON.  39 

how  sacred,  to  him  was  all  that  had  been  his 
wife's,  and  how  on  each  of  the  children's  birth- 
days he  would  give  them,  as  some  priceless 
treasure,  some  little  thing  of  their  mother's, — a 
book,  a  handkerchief,  a  pin-cushion.  But  he 
would  never  take  the  watch  back,  and  by  and 
by  she  found — for  coarse  rough  natures  grow 
sensitive  by  contact  with  superior  souls — that  it 
gave  him  pain  to  see  it,  so  she  gave  up  her 
futile  attempts  to  restore  it,  and  kept  it  laid  by, 
looking  at  it  every  now  and  then,  as  a  sort  of 
punishment,  when  anything  had  gone  amiss 
with  her  during  the  day,  if  her  temper  had 
failed,  or  she  had  broken  something,  or  had  let 
the  porridge  burn.  And  one  day,  but  that  was 
not  just  yet,  she  laid  it  at  her  master's  feet  as 
he  lay  dead,  and  it  was  buried  with  him  in 
Kingscombe  churchyard,  under  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  III. 

dear's  domain. 

"  In  her  garden  found  her, 
Sister  roses  round  her ; 
A  most  delightful,  queenlike,  little  flower." 

— From  "Month  by  Month." 

"DART  of  Dear's  undisputed  domains  from 
her  first  arrival  at  Kingscombe  was  the 
empty  house  and  grounds  of  the  Manor.  One 
of  the  first  walks  she  took  in  that  same  drab 
pelisse  and  large  sun-bonnet  was  through  the 
gardens  there ;  and  one  of  the  first  friends  she 
made  at  Kingscombe,  after  Tom  Clegg,  her 
charioteer  of  the  day  before,  was  old  Sims,  the 
gardener  at  the  Manor. 

Mr.  Hume,  with  Clive  in  his  perambulator, 
were  too  slow  and  vague  and  desultory  as  com- 
panions  to  Dear,  when,  even  at  this   early  age, 

(40) 


DEAR'S    DOMAIN.  4 1 

she  had  once  started  on  an  exploring  expedition. 
Mr.  Hume  was  apt  to  stand  transfixed  for  ten 
minutes  at  a  time,  with  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy, 
oblivious  of  impatient  jerks  at  his  hand  or 
tuggings  at  his  coat-tails.  As  they  grew  older 
the  children  treated  these  fits  of  abstraction 
with  respect,  for,  as  Dear  explained  to  little 
Clive,  "  he  had  gone  half  way  to  heaven  to  see 
dear  mother/'  and  that  was  why  he  could  not 
hear  what  they  said,  nor  see  the  things  that 
Clive  held  before  his  face. 

The  little  boy  pondered  this  explanation  long 
and  seriously.  "  Dear,"  he  said  at  last,  with  a 
very  awe-stricken  little  face,  "  s'pose  that  some 
day  he  got  so  near  to  heaven  and  dear  mother 
that  he  couldn't  find  the  way  back  ? "  And 
next  time  the  absent,  far-away  look  settled  on 
Mr.  Hume's  face,  he  was  called  back  abruptly 
to  earth  by  the  stifling  clutch  of  young  arms 
round  his  neck,  and  by  Clive's  sobbing,  terrified 
voice  in  his  ears,  "  Father,  father !  come  back 
to  me  and  Dear !  "  But  this  was  three  or  four 
years  later,  when  Clive's  feelings  were  articulate, 
1 


42  DEAR. 

for  that  first  day  at  Kingscombe  he  was  only 
nine  months  old,  and  had  no  great  choice  of 
vocabulary. 

So  Dear  left  them  behind  under  the  great 
beech  trees  that  form  the  avenue  leading  from 
the  lodge  to  the  house.  She  tripped  up  now 
and  then  over  her  long  pelisse,  or  over  the  mossy 
roots  that  pushed  themselves  up  through  the 
grass  on  either  side  of  the  broad  roadway,  but 
picked  herself  up  with  the  independence  of  a 
child  unused  to  nursery  care,  picking  the  sharp 
bits  of  stick  or  prickly  beechnut  shells  from  her 
poor  little  palms,  and  comforting  herself  for  a 
scratch  by  kissing  it  to  make  it  well,  with  a 
lingering  memory  of  mother's  tender  ways. 

The  iron  gate  into  the  garden  being  open, 
Dear  went  in  and  made  her  way  into  the  rose 
garden  at  the  right  of  the  house,  where  old  Sims 
was  at  work  hoeing  up  weeds.  It  was  then 
only  two  summers  since  the  old  Squire  had  died, 
and  the  garden  and  house  had  not  begun  to 
show  the  manifest  signs  of  absentee  ownership 
which  they  contracted  in  after  years,  and  even 


DEAR'S    DOMAIN.  43 

to  a  far  more  experienced  eye  than  Dear's  the 
rose  garden  in  the  bright  July  sunshine  might 
have  appeared  beautiful.  The  reign  of  the 
roses  was  at  its  height,  and  though  perhaps  a 
modern  connoisseur  of  roses  might  have  lamented 
the  absence  of  some  of  the  gorgeous  new  varie- 
ties, there  was  such  a  profusion  of  color  and  form 
and  fragrance  as  might  have  satisfied  the  most 
exacting  rose  fancier,  even  though  there  was  not 
a  single  label  to  proclaim  their  style  and  title, 
and  old  Sims  had  reached  the  end  of  his  knowl- 
edge when  he  pointed  out  a  well-known  old 
favorite  as  "  Glory  to  John."  Anyhow  there 
they  were,  quite  as  beautiful  as  if  they  had  long 
French  names  written  on  neat  zinc  labels ; 
dusky  rich  crimson  and  creamy  white,  full  glow- 
ing pink  and  golden  saffron,  with  dainty  shell- 
like tints  of  buff  and  maiden's  blush.  There 
were  roses  far  above  little  Dear's  head,  trained 
on  arches  over  the  path,  but  naturally  wishing 
for  notice,  stretching  down  long  branches,  bend- 
ing with  the  weight  of  their  blossoms.  There 
were  roses  too  on  either  side,  not  on  standards 


44  DEAR. 

displaying  bare  ugly  straight  stems  surmounted 
by  an  unnatural  mop  of  flowers,  but  on  luxuriant 
bushes  with  leaves  and  stems  and  flowers  grace- 
fully intermixed,  bushes  low  enough  to  allow 
of  Dear  making  a  cup  with  her  two  small  hands 
round  one  beautiful  half-opened  pink  blossom, 
and  kissing  the  dewy  fragrant  petals. 

Her  print  sun-bonnet  had  fallen  back  in  her 
efforts  to  be  polite  to  the  Markhale  Niel  above 
her  head,  whose  soft  yellow  buds  seemed  actu- 
ally to  be  smiling  down  at  her  as  she  passed, 
so  that  it  was  only  pretty  behaved  to  stop  and 
smile  back,  and  it  was  then  that  Sims  saw  the 
quaint  baby  figure  with  the  sunlight  dappling  her 
fair,  little,  curly  head  through  the  rose  foliage, 
and  her  eyes  smiling  up  in  a  rapture  of  delight. 

"Blessed  if  she  mightn't  abeen  one  of  the 
flowers  come  to  life.  She  always  were  a  terrible 
one  for  flowers  were  Miss  Dear,  and  she'd  a  way 
of  treating  'em  every  bit  as  if  they  was  Chris- 
tians, and  could  feel  and  hear,  and  would  be  put 
about  if  they  was  roughly  handled  or  not  took 
no  notice  on." 


DEAR'S   DOMAIN.  45 

"  Please  lift  me  up,"  was  Dear's  first  remark 
to  Sims,  men  being,  according  to  her  under- 
standing, no  doubt  intended  for  lifting  and 
carrying,  and  otherwise  assisting  determined 
characters  of  short  stature  to  attain  their  ends. 

From  the  vantage-ground  of  Sims'  arms,  Dear 
caught  sight  of  the  terrace  beyond,  on  to  which 
the  rose  garden  opens.  A  rich  deep  violet 
clematis  was  tossed  in  a  great  mass  on  the 
balustrade,  and  in  front,  in  lovely  contrast,  was 
a  row  of  stately  madonna  lilies,  taller  by  a  good 
deal  than  little  Dear  that  July  day,  and  she 
made  a  little  imperative  gesture  to  Sims,  who 
had  already  become  her  humble  bond-slave,  to 
carry  her  in  that  direction. 

"  And  what  may  your  name  be,  little  miss  ? " 
asked  Sims,  after  the  lilies  had  been  examined, 
and  had  left  their  golden  dust  on  the  child's 
little  round  nose.  He  was  not  deceived  by 
the  faded  pelisse  and  print  sun-bonnet  and 
the  absence  of  attendant  nursery-maids  into 
thinking  that  she  was  merely  a  village  child, 
and    he   had   heard   too    that    the   new   parson 


46  DEAR. 

had  arrived  the  day  before.  "Are  you  the 
parson's  little  maid  ?  " 

"I'm  Dear,"  she  said.  "I  used  to  be  Baby 
Dear,  before  Boy  came,  and  then  he  was  Baby, 
and  I  was  only  Dear." 

And  here,  perhaps,  is  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity of  telling  the  reader  how  the  little  girl 
came  by  that  name,  which  sounds  like  a  pet 
name  of  endearment,  but  which  was  actually 
her  baptismal  name.  Many  names  had  been 
suggested  and  discussed,  and  I  think  the  last 
conclusion  come  to  before  the  christening  was 
that  she  should  bear  her  mother's  name  of 
Annie,  but  when  Mr.  Hume  took  the  baby  in 
his  arms  at  the  font,  he  forgot  all  about  the 
name  and  called  her  what  was  in  his  heart  of 
love  and  tenderness,  though  indeed  Dear  was 
her  mother's  name  as  far  as  he  was  concerned. 
"Dear,  I  baptize  thee."  He  was  very  apolo- 
getic about  it  afterwards,  when  he  grasped 
what  he  had  done,  thinking  her  mother  might 
be  vexed,  but  they  both  agreed,  on  reflection, 
that   it   was   the  very  name   for   this   rare  and 


DEAR'S   DOMAIN.  47 

wonderful  little  gift  that  had  been  granted 
them,  eminently  dear  to  them,  and,  as  seemed 
sure  to  their  partial  minds,  to  all  who  came  in 
contact  with  her. 

As  the  child  grew  to  notice  such  things,  it 
seemed  to  her  that  her  name  was  an  unusually- 
nice  one,  seeing  that  people  appeared  to  know 
intuitively  what  it  was,  and  strangers  would 
address  her  as  "  Well,  my  little  Dear !  "  and 
old  women  stop  her  to  ask,  "  Where  are  you 
going,  Dear  ? " 

Now  it  was  noticeable  that  Clive's  name  had 
not  that  advantage,  for  no  uninformed  person 
spoke  to  him  as  "  Well,  my  little  Clive,"  so 
Dear  had  certainly  a  great  advantage  in  hav- 
ing such  a  name,  and  Clive  was  inclined  to 
envy  it. 

"  Why,  whatever  child  have  Sims  got  carrying 
about  now?"  Mrs.  Lynch  the  housekeeper  said, 
as  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  old  man  raising 
Dear  to  peep  into  a  thrush's  nest  in  the  hedge 
by  the  pantry  window.  "  Wasting  his  time ! 
and  he  as  hadn't  a  minute  to  spare  this  blessed 


4-8  DEAR. 

morning   to  do  a  job,    let  alone   speak  a  civil 
word  to  a  body." 

By  which  it  may  be  seen  that  there  was  the 
usual  amount  of  friction  between  the  indoor 
and  outdoor  servants. 

But  Mrs.  Lynch's  irritation  against  Sims  was 
not  proof  against  Dear's  radiant,  little  face,  and 
the  grumblings  against  him  ended  in  a  "  Bless 
her  little  heart ! "  at  the  sight  of  a  rapturous 
meeting  between  the  child  and  Meg,  the  large, 
sleek  tabby  cat,  who  was  the  pride  of  her 
mistress's  heart,  and  to  whom  Dear's  innocent 
mind  ascribed  no  evil  intentions  with  regard  to 
that  same  thrush's  nest,  though  the  spotted 
breast  of  the  mother  bird  was  greatly  agitated 
by  the  neighborhood  of  that  shining  tabby 
body,  and  loud  scoldings  followed  the  cat's 
dignified  retreat  from  the  wall. 

Mrs.  Lynch's  hand  involuntarily  strayed  to- 
wards the  button  of  the  door  of  a  cupboard,  in 
one  corner  of  which  was  a  jar  of  honey;  and, 
having  got  that  out,  she  remembered  that  a  bit 
of  parsley  was  necessary  in  the  preparation  of 


DEAR'S    DOMAIN.  49 

her  dinner,  and  though  that  is  not  usually  grown 
in  a  flower-garden  (though  why  not  it  would  be 
hard  to  say,  seeing  that  it  is  quite  as  pretty  as 
many  of  the  foliage  plants  which  are  so  largely 
cultivated),  yet  she  took  her  way  towards  the 
lawn  from  whence  Sims'  gruff  grumbling  and 
the  child's  clear,  sweet  voice  proceeded. 

Ten  minutes  later,  the  doors  of  Kingscombe 
Manor  opened  to  receive  this  young  conqueror  ; 
kitchen  doors,  to  be  sure,  but  rather  on  that 
account  to  be  preferred  as  leading  more  directly 
to  the  heart  of  the  citadel,  and  not  requiring 
the  amount  of  unbarring  and  undrawing  of 
rusty  bolts  which  the  opening  of  the  front  door 
necessitated.  The  garrison  also  capitulated  un- 
conditionally— the  garrison  consisting,  it  is  true, 
only  of  Mrs.  Lynch  and  her  niece  Betty ;  but 
still,  not  foes  to  be  despised,  for  they  had  held 
the  fortress  gallantly  against  various  assailants, 
or  what  they  imagined  to  be  such,  in  the  shape 
of  tramps  and  Irish  haymakers,  blood-curdling 
descriptions  of  whom  they  gave  to  their  admir- 
ing friends  and  relations  and  to  the  local  police- 
4 


50  DEAR. 

man,  who  wondered  in  his  foolish  mind,  which 
was  always  in  a  state  of  surprise  and  puzzle, 
that  he  never  met  these  gigantic,  brawny 
ruffians  of  threatening  and  savage  aspect,  who 
visited  the  Manor  from  time  to  time,  and  were 
put  to  flight  by  the  courage  and  discretion  of 
Mrs.  Lynch  and  Betty.  Even  Mrs.  Lynch's 
own  friends  and  acquaintances  seldom  pene- 
trated beyond  the  kitchen  and  the  housekeeper's 
room,  though  it  would  have  required  super- 
human strength  to  have  carried  off  the  massive 
furniture  of  the  Manor,  if  her  scruples  about 
showing  the  house  were  to  be  attributed  to 
fear  of  dishonesty. 

But  to  Dear  all  parts  of  the  Manor  were  open 
and  free  ;  not,  however,  on  that  first  day,  when 
I  do  not  think  she  penetrated  further  than  the 
honey-pot  on  the  table  in  the  housekeeper's 
room.  But  in  after  times  Dear  spent  many  a 
day  trotting  about  in  the  empty  rooms,  gazing 
up  at  the  pictures  of  bygone  Maddisons,  in- 
cluding "poor  dear  Fanny,"  whose  mild  and 
somewhat  simpering    expression  she  found  very 


DEAR'S   DOMAIN.  51 

pleasing,  not  being  prejudiced  as  the  second 
Mrs.  Maddison  had  been  by  details  of  costume 
and  hair-dressing.  She  was  soon  on  speaking 
terms  with  all  the  pictures  and  had  her  favor- 
ites among  them,  and  occasionally  little  mis- 
understandings and  quarrels,  and,  with  one  stout 
old  Maddison  in  a  curly  wig  and  with  a  sly, 
pig-like  eye,  that  followed  persistently  wherever 
she  went  in  the  room,  she  had  quite  a  serious 
tiff,  and  did  not  say  good-morning  to  him  for 
nearly  a  month. 

The  furniture  that  had  been  such  a  trial  to 
Mrs.  Maddison's  aesthetic  taste,  became  boon 
companions  of  little  Dear;  each  solid  chair 
and  uninteresting  table  being  invested  with  a 
character  of  its  own,  and  representing  animals 
in  Noah's  Ark,  or  roaring  lions  surrounding  a 
Daniel  clad  in  a  dark  pelisse  and  sun-bonnet ; 
or  a  whale  yawning  to  swallow  a  small,  curly- 
headed  Jonah.  In  later  times  they  assumed 
the  shapes  of  fairies  and  giants,  witches  and 
dwarfs  ;  or  later  still,  as  Dear's  reading  enlarged 
its  sphere,  they   became   kings    and    heroes    of 


52  DEAR. 

romance,  fair  ladies  and  gallant  knights,  and 
one  sofa  (it  was  a  remarkably  clumsy  one  in  the 
morning-room — horsehair,  with  mahogany  legs), 
carried  its  title  of  knight  in  Dear's  mind  far  on 
into  days  to  come,  when  clouds  had  gathered 
between  her  and  the  memories  of  those  childish 
days,  when  the  gallant  deeds  of  that  piece  of 
furniture  had  gained  for  it  a  light  tap  from  the 
wooden  spade  in  Dear's  hand,  and  "  Rise,  Sir 
Sofa !  "  was  said  in  such  impressive  accents  as 
must  have  thrilled  to  its  very  castors. 

Clive  in  due  time  was  admitted  into  this 
magic  domain,  and  followed  submissively  in 
Dear's  footsteps,  regarding  pictures  and  furni- 
ture through  her  eyes,  and  adopting  all  her 
ideas  and  prejudices  without  attempting  to 
import  into  them  any  original  ideas  of  his  own, 
only  accepting  it  all  with  a  certain  matter-of- 
factness  and  simplicity  which  gave  a  wonderful 
reality  to  her  imaginations,  so  that  Dear  was 
sometimes  almost  frightened  at  the  solid,  pal- 
pable proportions  which  the  airy  fabrics  she 
had  built  up  assumed  under  Clive' s  treatment. 


DEAR'S   DOMAIN.  53 

Mrs.  Lynch  from  the  very  first  had  perfect 
confidence  in  Dear,  which  was  amply  justified 
by  the  respect  the  child  paid  to  the  Maddison 
belongings. 

"  She  ain't  one  of  them  fidgety,  rompussing 
children  as  can't  leave  nothing  alone.  If  she 
do  lift  one  of  them  'olland  covers  to  peep  at 
the  cushings  and  things,  she's  as  sure  to  put  it 
back  as  I'd  be  myself,  and  a  sight  surer  than 
Betty,  though  she's  no  more  than  a  baby." 

Mrs.  Lynch's  confidence  was  not  so  un- 
bounded as  regards  Clive,  though  I  do  not 
know  that  he  ever  did  anything  to  merit  her 
suspicions ;  but  she  had  a  theory  that  boys 
would  be  boys,  meaning  that  they  must  of  their 
very  natures  be  constantly  in  mischief  ;  and  it 
is  perfectly  useless  to  attempt  to  upset  people's 
theories,  even  with  the  most  convincing  of  facts ; 
there  is  nothing  so  impregnable. 

But  that  first  day,  as  I  have  said,  Dear  went 
no  further  than  the  housekeeper's  room,  and  if 
at  the  age  of  nine  months  boys  have  already 
begun  to  be  boys,  the  mischief  was  confined  to 


54  DEAR. 

his  perambulator,  which  did  not  get  more  than 
half  way  up  the  avenue,  where  Dear,  on  her 
return  in  Sims'  arms,  found  him  fast  asleep, 
and  Mr.  Hume  sitting  on  the  grass  beside  him, 
and  quite  as  far  away  from  sublunary  things  as 
his  sleeping,  little  son. 


CHAPTER   IV. 

LITTLE    DEAR    AND    CLIVE. 

"  The  stars  of  midnight  shall  be  dear 
To  her ;  and  she  shall  lean  her  ear 

In  many  a  secret  place, 
Where  rivulets  dance  their  wayward  round, 
And  beauty  born  of  murmuring  sound, 
Shall  pass  into  her  face." 

— Wordsworth. 

WONDER  how  much  the  outward  circum- 
stances of  nature  affect  the  development  of 
character  ?  Not  so  much,  I  am  inclined  to 
think,  as  we  should  naturally  imagine,  seeing 
that  great,  noble,  breezy  natures  may  grow  up 
in  close,  smoky,  manufacturing  towns,  with 
grimy  brick  walls  close  to  right  and  left  of 
them,  and  thick  clouds  of  smoke  hanging  above 
their  heads  ;  while  small,  mean  souls  may  be 
found    among    the    noble    snow    mountains    or 

(55) 


$6  DEAR. 

wide-spreading  moors,  and  slaves  by  the  great 
free  sea. 

I  know  that  the  very  same  surroundings 
made  an  oaf  of  Will  Martin,  and  an  oaf  too 
with  a  partiality  for  beer,  and  a  shaky  notion 
of  truth  and  even  of  honesty,  and  the  only 
intelligence  about  him,  a  mean  sort  of  cunning 
and  self-interest.  And  yet,  I  cannot  quite  get 
it  out  of  my  mind  that  the  beautiful  outlines  of 
those  gray-green  hills  against  the  sky  may  have 
had  some  influence  in  forming  Dear's  character, 
and  the  cloud  shadows  sweeping  over  them, 
and  the  great  spreading  broad  landscape  that 
the  child's  eyes  gazed  on  so  often ;  and  the 
steep,  little  village  street,  with  the  yellow-washed 
cottages  on  either  side,  looking  so  snug  and 
friendly  under  their  beetling  brows  of  thatch  ; 
and  the  pound,  with  its  four  pollard  elms  at  the 
corners  and  the  rare  growth  of  nettles  inside ; 
and  the  village  pump,  with  its  stone  trough,  on 
the  edge  of  which  the  buckets  rested  so  long 
while  their  owners  gossipped  ;  and  last,  not 
least,    the  little  old   Norman    church,   with   its 


LITTLE   DEAR   AND   CLIVE.  $7 

round  arches  and  thick,  clumsy,  shapeless  pil- 
lars, and  small,  deep,  lancet  windows. 

In  after  years  one,  from  whose  mind  Dear 
was  not  often  absent,  fancied  that  traces  could 
be  found  in  the  girl's  character  of  the  subtle 
influence  of  these  outward  things,  surrounding 
her  growing  up,  and,  being  far  away  from 
Kingscombe  and  from  Dear,  loved  to  carry 
on  this  fancy,  and  conjure  up  before  his 
mind's  eye  smaller  details  of  the  place — the 
clipped  yew  peacock  at  the  Bush ;  the  stile 
formed  of  one  great  slab  of  stone,  leading 
to  the  footpath  across  the  park  ;  the  broken 
steps  to  the  post-office  and  village  shop,  be- 
tween the  stones  of  which  grew  little  dainty 
tufts  of  fern ;  the  blacksmith's  forge  at  the 
cross  roads  with  the  cling  -  clang  of  the 
hammer  and  the  shower  of  sparks  flying  up. 
He  could  see  and  hear  it  all,  and  out  of  each 
detail  he  fancied  he  could  trace  the  origin  of 
something  sweet  or  tender  or  quaint  in  Dear's 
character.  But  this,  of  course,  was  fancy,  and, 
as   I  said  before,  the  very  same   surroundings 


58  DEAR. 

produced  Will  Martin,  so  it  is  not  safe  to  set 
down  too  much  to  outward  impressions.  It 
may  have  been,  one  can  well  believe,  that  the 
intercourse  with  such  a  man  as  Mr.  Hume  may- 
have  accomplished  the  results  which  this  fanci- 
ful dreamer  set  down  to  that  lop-sided  peacock 
and  impossible  stile  and  broken-down  steps  and 
so  on.  I  do  not  think  any  one,  least  of  all  a 
child,  can  live  in  the  company  of  simple  holiness 
and  not  catch  some  of  that  most  infectious  of 
complaints.  Talk  of  wickedness  being  catching, 
and  the  terrible  power  of  bad  example  !  it  is 
nothing  to  the  contagion  of  truth,  and,  I  am 
sure,  I  do  not  know  what  disinfectant  can  re- 
move the  effect  of  good  example  ;  heap  up  the 
clods  over  it,  sink  it  fathoms  deep  in  mid-ocean, 
it  is  not  to  be  got  rid  of  by  any  means. 

The  children,  even  from  babyhood,  were  his 
constant  companions,  and  pattered  about  after 
him  wherever  he  went.  They  were  always  at 
church,  forming  generally  the  sole  congregation 
at  the  daily  service,  which  being  unheard  of  in 
these  parts,  roused   considerable  dissatisfaction 


LITTLE   DEAR   AND    CLIVE.  59 

at  first  in  the  parish,  though  it  was  hard  to  say 
why,  as  no  one  ever  came,  any  one  need  have 
objected;  but  nevertheless  it  was  continued 
without  intermission  in  Kingscombe  till  five 
days  before  Mr.   Hume's  funeral. 

Dear  and  Clive  were  always  present,  and,  that 
first  winter  at  Kingscombe,  when  the  weather 
was  very  severe  and  Clive  was  very  small  and 
had  chilblains,  and  Dear  was  not  yet  old  enough 
to  bear  the  awful  solitude  of  the  vicarage  pew 
with  father  far  away — according  to  the  measure- 
ments of  three  years — up  in  the  chancel,  the  two 
would  creep  into  the  reading-desk  with  him  and 
draw  the  ragged  cassock  round  them,  and  feel 
quite  warm ;  and  if  sometimes  when  he  stepped 
out  to  the  lectern  to  read  the  lessons  he  had 
Clive  in  his  arms,  though  of  course  an  irregu- 
larity and  strongly  to  be  deprecated  as  any 
precedent  as  regards  ritual,  it  may  not  have 
been  displeasing  in  the  sight  of  Him  Whose 
Gospel  was  there  read,  and  Who,  we  are  told, 
Himself  took  the  little  children  up  in  His  arms. 

Patty,   before  that   episode  of  the  watch,   of 


60  DEAR. 

which  mention  has  been  made  in  a  former  chap- 
ter, used  to  protest  against  this  church-going 

"  The  children,"  she  declared,  "  is  too  good  to 
live  already,  and  don't  want  no  more  to  make 
'em  better.  I  never  heard  tell  in  all  my  born 
days  of  good  children  growing  up,  and  'tis  just 
like  driving  so  many  nails  into  their  coffins  to 
let  'em  go  on  so." 

But  after  her  lapse  from  the  paths  of  honesty 
Patty  protested  no  more,  and  perhaps  further 
experience  of  the  children  reassured  her  that 
they  were  not  likely  to  become  too  good,  perhaps 
by  occasional  fits  of  tantrums  on  Clive's  part, 
which  were  very  healthy  and  did  not  forbode 
early  decease,  or,  perhaps,  by  investigation  of 
his  chubby  shoulders,  on  which  no  signs  of 
premature  wings  showed  themselves  through  the 
steam  on  tub-nights. 

But  the  children  accompanied  their  father  on 
other  occasions,  equally  objected  to  by  Patty 
and  others  in  Kingscombe,  only  from  other 
motives  than  those  aroused  by  the  church-going. 
When  Mr.   Hume  heard  that  Clegg  was  rapidly 


LITTLE   DEAR   AND   CLIVE.  6l 

getting  tipsy  in  the  Bush  one  evening,  and  went 
to  fetch  him  out,  Dear  went  too,  though  Clegg 
was  known  to  be  free  in  his  language,  and  not 
particular  with  his  fists  when  in  his  cups.  Clive 
would  have  gone  too,  only  it  happened  to  be  tub- 
night,  and  if  he  had  gone  it  would  have  been 
straight  out  of  his  bath,  and  with  no  costume  to 
speak  of  except  soap.  Ciegg  did  not  get  tipsy 
for  a  long  time  after  that  ;  he  could  never  rightly 
remember  what  happened,  but  he  had  a  dim 
recollection  of  Miss  Dear's  eyes  looking  at  him 
through  mists  of  beer  and  bewilderment,  and  of 
an  overwhelming  wish  to  hide  or  fight  somebody, 
and  then  "  all  at  onst,  it  wern't  little  Missy's 
eyes,  but  a  couple  of  them  big  stars  over  the 
barn  roof  yonder,  and  we  was  out  of  the  Bush 
in  the  dark,  and  the  new  parson  he'd  got  hold 
of  my  arm  ;  he  were  a  weakly  sort  of  little  chap, 
and  needed  a  bit  of  help  now  and  then  to  get 
over  the  ground,  and  he  was  talking  away  about 
them  potatoes  as  wanted  hoeing,  and  he  hap- 
pened to  be  coming  along  my  way,  as  made  a 
good  chance  of  telling  me  what  he  wanted." 


62  DEAR. 

The  village  was  still  more  outraged  at  his 
taking  the  children  to  a  farm  where  a  man  was 
dying  of  some  fever,  darkly  suspected  of  being 
typhus.  Patty  had  sent  the  messenger  from  the 
farm  away  with  a  flea  in  his  ear,  at  the  proposal 
even  that  Mr.  Hume  should  go.  She  wasn't 
a-going  to  give  the  master  no  such  message. 
He  wouldn't  go,  so  there  !  It  weren't  likely  as 
he'd  go  and  catch  all  manner  of  nasty  things, 
and  for  one  too  as  never  darkened  the  doors  of 
the  church,  nor  for  the  matter  of  that  the  chapel 
neither,  and  used  such  language  of  market  days 
as  would  make  a  cat's  blood  run  cold. 

The  messenger,  a  limp  and  meek-spirited 
youth,  nephew  to  the  sick  man,  and  used  to 
much  bad  language  and  many  cuffs  from  him, 
felt  the  force  of  Patty's  arguments,  and  took  his 
departure  with  half  a  thought  as  to  whether  it 
was  worth  while  to  try  the  dissenting  minister 
in  the  next  village,  and  debating  what  he  could 
say  to  the  poor,  draggled,  ill-used  wife,  who  had 
not  had  all  the  love  beaten  out  of  her  yet,  or  at 
any  rate  the  fear  of  what  might  be  beyond  the 


LITTLE   DEAR   AND    CLIVE.  63 

darkness  into  which  each  moment  took  her 
husband  deeper. 

"  There  !  it  weren't  my  fault ;  I  said  all  I  could, 
but  it  weren't  no  manner  of  use.  It's  the  fever 
they're  afraid  on,  and  I  didn't  think  'twere  no 
good  going  all  the  way  to  Dickson's,  down  to 
Bristow,  as  he  ain't  likely  to  agot  over  that 
stone  as  uncle  chucked  through  chapel  window 
Michaelmas  fair." 

But  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth 
when  the  new  parson  arrived  breathless  and 
hatless,  having  run  best  part  of  the  way.  Not 
come  ?  Why,  he  would  have  got  up  from  his 
dying  bed  for  such  a  purpose,  and  all  that  Patty 
could  urge  against  the  man  was  so  much  the 
more  reason  for  hastening  to  his  side.  And 
about  ten  minutes  afterwards  arrived  Dear  and 
Clive  with  Mr.  Hume's  hat.  Dear  was  five  at 
that  time,  and  had  begun  to  feel  responsible  for 
her  father's  appearance,  and  had  set  off  trotting 
after  him,  followed  and  delayed  by  Clive's  fat 
legs. 

And  instead  of  sending  them  right  away  or 


64  DEAR. 

scolding  them  (but  that  he  never  did),  Mr. 
Hume  let  them  stop  in  that  infected  house  ;  and 
Patty,  who  had  not  a  notion  where  they  had 
gone  to,  was  pretty  well  at  her  wit's  end  at  their 
disappearance,  and  went  to  every  house  in  the 
village,  including  the  Manor,  but  could  hear 
nothing  of  them.  At  ten  o'clock  at  night,  con- 
quering qualms  of  fear  on  her  own  account,  but 
feeling  obliged  to  tell  her  master  of  the  children's 
loss,  she  made  her  way  to  Lea  Farm,  and  there 
found  both  the  children  asleep  on  the  settle  in 
the  farm  kitchen,  from  which  the  bedroom  led 
in  which  that  solemn  parting  from  earthly  things 
was  going  on. 

No  harm  came  of  it  to  one  or  the  other,  which 
was  at  the  same  time  a  relief  and  a  disappoint- 
ment to  Patty  and  other  wise  people  in  the 
parish,  who  had  prophesied  the  immediate  death 
of  both  of  them,  and  much  as  you  may  deplore 
the  event,  there  is  a  certain  satisfaction  in  prov- 
ing yourself  a  true  prophet  even  of  evil. 

The  aggravating  part  of  Mr.  Hume  and  his 
children  was  that  they  never   realized  people's 


LITTLE   DEAR   AND    CLIVE.  65 

prognostications.  They  were  children  who  went 
about  with  holes  in  their  shoes  and  did  not  take 
cold,  who  went  into  the  way  of  infection  and  did 
not  catch  anything,  who  always  had  their  own 
way  and  yet  did  not  appear  the  least  self-willed 
or  spoilt,  who  were  constantly  taken  to  church 
and  yet  neither  got  tired  of  it,  nor,  familiarity 
breeding  contempt,  grew  to  behave  badly  and 
irreverently,  nor,  as  seemed  the  only  alternative, 
became  little,  unreal  prigs,  good  for  nothing  but 
a  premature  grave  ;  who  learnt  of  their  own 
accord  what  could  hardly  be  driven  into  other 
children's  heads  by  the  combined  energies  of 
parents  and  school-master,  with  plentiful  assist- 
ance from  the  cane. 

I  fancy  that  Patty,  as  far  as  her  ability  went, 
which  was  not  very  far,  tided  the  children  over 
the  first  difficulties  of  reading,  and  as  far  as  pot- 
hooks in  writing,  and  rudimentary  arithmetic 
accomplished  with  acorns  or  strokes  of  chalk  on 
the  back  kitchen  door,  and  this  slight  taste  of 
the  tree  of  knowledge  was  enough  to  set  off 
these  two  young  gluttons  to  gather  fruit  on  their 
5 


66  DEAR. 

own  account,  dipping  into  folios,  overcoming  the 
difficulties  of  black  letter,  and  picking  out  scraps 
of  amusement  and  interest  from  books  whose 
dullness  would  appall  the  general  public. 

Mr.  Hume's  library  was  not  very  extensive, 
and  was  naturally  composed  largely  of  theological 
works ;  but  the  children  were  not  easily  discour- 
aged, and,  I  think,  they  got  as  much  pleasure, 
and  more  satisfaction,  from  what  they  could 
spell  out  of  the  tattered  old  Chaucer,  or  from 
quaint  anecdotes  in  Jeremy  Taylor,  than  our 
pampered  young  people  find  in  their  copiously- 
illustrated  and  beautifully-printed  books  m  gor- 
geous bindings,  written  purposely  to  suit  every 
infantile  age  or  taste. 

It  is  difficult  to  say  at  what  age  Clive  first 
manifested  his  taste  for  mathematics.  Looking 
back,  Dear  was  inclined  to  maintain  that  it  was 
evident  from  his  very  babyhood  ;  that  before  he 
could  speak  plain,  or  even  walk  with  dependable 
steadiness,  he  was  given  to  calculations  and 
reckoning,  and  to  poring  over  that  old  folio 
Newton,  with  its  mysterious,  and,  to  her,  uninter 


LITTLE    DEAR   AND   CLIVE.  6? 

esting  figures  and  symbols.  Clive  himself  attri- 
buted his  first  devotion  to  Newton  to  imitation 
of  Dear's  absorption  in  Chaucer,  which  she 
rather  appropriated  as  her  own,  and  objected  to 
the  prolonged  contemplation  of  the  crabbed  old 
pictures  of  the  "Nonne,"  or  the  "  Prioresse,"  or 
the  "Doctor  of  Physike"  which  seemed  to  him 
the  best  part  of  the  book. 

So  he  set  up  an  opposition  folio  to  spread 
open  on  his  legs,  as  he  sat  on  the  floor  in  front 
of  the  bookcase,  and,  as  none  other  of  the  folios 
possessed  pictures,  Newton  was  selected  as  being 
occasionally  interspersed  with  figures  to  relieve 
the  monotony  of  the  letterpress,  and  so  acci- 
dentally the  bent  was  given  which  year  by  year 
grew  more  decided,  and  influenced  the  whole 
course  of  his  life. 

It  is  very  curious  to  notice  how,  when  any  one 
has  a  decided  bent  in  one  direction,  things  turn 
up  to  favor  and  help  that  bent,  even  though 
circumstances  may  appear  most  adverse  and 
discouraging.  Who  would  not  have  thought 
that  in  a  little,  out-of-the-way  Loamshire  village, 


68  DEAR. 

among  a  set  of  clodhoppers,  a  boy's  mathemati- 
cal genius  would  have  been  stifled  under  the 
weight  of  dullness  and  want  of  opportunity  ? 
Not  a  bit  of  it.  Helpers  turned  up  in  the  most 
unexpected  directions  ;  that  stupid  old  Hodge 
the  carpenter  knew  a  little  elementary  practical 
geometry,  the  bailiff  at  the  Manor  had  some 
knowledge  of  land  and  timber  measurement,  the 
school-master  over  at  Great  Cheriton  had  a 
smattering  of  algebra,  and  a  willingness  to 
impart  all  he  knew,  and  a  good  deal  more. 
Mr.  Hume  himself  would  occasionally  wake 
up  and  recall  old  Cambridge  days,  and  give 
an  amount  of  help  which  was  all  the  more 
delightful  because  it  was  so  unexpected  and 
never  reckoned  upon  by  the  boy,  who  drank 
in  every  word,  knowing  how  short  a  time  this 
mood  in  his  father  was  likely  to  last,  and 
how  perhaps  in  the  very  middle  of  demonstrat- 
ing a  problem,  the  attention  might  wander, 
the  interest  die  out,  and  his  thoughts  be  miles 
away  (if  indeed  heaven  is  measured  by  miles) 
from  the   little    untidy  study,  the  open,  much- 


LITTLE   DEAR   AND    CLIVE.  69 

thumbed  algebra,  and  the  eager  boy's  face  with 
burning  eyes. 

And  once  when  Clive,  like  another  Pascal, 
was  tracing  a  figure  from  Euclid  in  the  sand  by 
the  gravel  pit,  there  happened,  to  pass  on  a  bi- 
cycle, like  a  very  Deus  ex  machina,  a  young  man 
of  mild  aspect,  who  yet  was  a  senior  wrangler. 
He  was  better  at  mathematics  than  at  cycling, 
and  was  not  sorry  to  dismount  and  have  a  talk 
with  the  queer  little  kid  with  ragged  knicker- 
bockers and  a  shock  head. 

So  many  strange  figures  appeared  that  eve- 
ning traced  on  the  sand  by  the  gravel  pit,  that 
a  party  of  laborers,  coming  from  work,  stopped 
to  contemplate  them  with  much  head  shaking 
and  awe,  arriving  at  the  conclusion  that  the 
powers  of  darkness  had  had  a  hand  in  it,  and 
one  of  them  wagered  as  old  Betty  Cook  had 
been  up  to  some  of  her  tricks,  as  were  well 
known  to  have  overlooked  Farmer  White's  cow, 
as  went  dry  two  days  arter,  and  another  reck- 
oned as  he  see  a  black  cat  run  out  of  the  pit  last 
time  as  ever  he  come  that  way  at  the  full  of  the 


70  DEAR. 

moon.  After  which  they  left  the  doubtful  spot, 
with  its  mysterious  lines  and  circles,  with  quick- 
ened footsteps  and  a  dislike  to  be  hindermost. 

But  if  there  were  witchcraft  in  those  cabalistic 
signs,  the  spell  had  been  cast  on  Clive,  for  the 
next  few  days  nothing  could  keep  him  from 
Great  Cheriton,  whither  he  went  at  the  earliest 
hour  of  the  morning,  returning  dusty  and  ex- 
hausted, or  wet  through  and  muddy,  late  in 
the  evening,  too  tired  to  eat  and  too  excited  to 
sleep.  Nothing  could  stop  him  short  of  Patty 
hiding  his  clothes,  which  she  had  not  the  heart 
to  do  ;  a  bilious  attack,  a  thunderstorm,  a  blis- 
tered foot,  a  dilapidated  boot,  in  which  the 
upper  leather  was  becoming  alienated  from  the 
sole,  an  invitation  to  help  pick  cherries  at  the 
Manor, — nothing  could  prevent  him  toiling  into 
Great  Cheriton,  where  that  magician  of  the  bi- 
cycle was  putting  up  at  the  George,  and  pretend- 
ing to  fish  in  the  Cher. 

The  young  wrangler  was  amused  at  the  de- 
votion of  the  ragged  little  genius  from  Kings- 
combe,  and  for  want  of  better  company  had  no 


LITTLE  DEAR  AND   CLIVE.  71 

objection  to  the  boy  toiling  after  him  carrying 
basket  or  rod,  and  ready  to  plunge  into  water  or 
mud,  or  climb  a  tree,  whenever  the  exigiences  of 
not  very  expert  fishing  required  such  exertion. 

And  for  all  this  Clive  was  more  than  rewarded 
by  such  crumbs  and  scraps  of  knowledge  as  this 
divinity  pleased  to  throw  him  from  that  rich 
table  of  the  gods  at  which  it  had  been  his 
privilege  to  sit  at  Cambridge,  submitting  un- 
complainingly when  the  charms  of  sleep,  or 
pipe,  or  shilling  dreadful  stopped  the  flow  of 
wisdom  for  several  hours  together. 

"  Well,  good-bye,  old  chap  !  "  the  wrangler 
said,  as  he  was  starting  from  Great  Cheriton,  per- 
forming that  undignified  but  apparently  neces- 
sary process  of  hopping  preparatory  to  mounting 
his  bicycle  ;  "  grind  away  at  your  mathematics 
like  beans,  and  when  I  get  back  to  Cambridge 
I'll  send  you  a  ripping  book  that  will  help  you 
no  end." 

He  forgot  all  about  it  when  he  got  to  the 
next  hill,  where  the  brake  did  not  act  properly, 
and  never  thought  of  it  again  ;  but  he  had  done 


72  DEAR. 

more  for  Clive  in  those  few  days  than  any 
"  ripping  hook  "  would  have  done,  and  when  the 
boy  got  over  the  disappointment  of  post  after 
post  bringing  no  book  for  him,  he  preserved 
only  feelings  of  gratitude. 


CHAPTER   V. 


RALPH    MADDISON. 


"  And  what  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June  ? 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days  ; 
Then  Heaven  tries  the  earth  if  it  be  in  tune, 
And  over  it  softly  her  warm  ear  lays." 

— J.  R.  Lowell. 

TT  must  have  been  the  year  following  the 
wrangler's  visit,  recorded  in  the  last  chapter, 
that  Ralph  Maddison  made  his  appearance  at 
Kingscombe  Manor.  I  do  not  think  I  have  even 
mentioned  his  existence,  which  is  the  more 
blamable  because  he  was  the  heir  of  all  the 
broad  acres  belonging  to  the  Maddisons,  and  of 
a  good  deal  of  more  substantial  money  value 
into  the  bargain. 

This  was  not  quite  his   first   appearance   at 
Kingscombe,  as  he  had  been  brought  down  in  the 

(73) 


74  DEAR. 

chrysalis  state,  lace  and  embroidery  and  cambric 
and  satin,  with  a  crumpled  red  face  somewhere 
about  in  it,  to  display  to  the  admiring  tenantry 
shortly  before  the  old  Squire's  death.  But  after 
this  nothing  more  was  seen  or  heard  of  him,  and 
as  the  old  Manor  servants  had  been  dispersed, 
with  the  exception  of  Mrs.  Lynch  and  Sims, 
there  was  no  circle  of  faithful  retainers  to  receive 
with  breathless  interest  the  details  of  the  young 
master's  gradual  progress  through  all  the  changes 
and  chances  of  childhood,  cutting  teeth,  running 
off,  discarding  infantile  petticoats  and  adopting 
manly  garb,  having  measles,  whooping  cough, 
and  suchlike  childish  complaints,  or  making  his 
first  steps  in  the  thorny  path  of  education. 

And  even  if  Mrs.  Lynch  and  Sims  had  been 
ready  to  keep  up  old  traditions  of  interest  in  the 
heir  of  Kingscombe,  there  was  no  one  to  keep 
them  posted  up  in  these  particulars,  as  "my 
lady  "  never  wrote,  except  when  she  had  some- 
thing to  complain  of  about  the  way  in  which  the 
baskets  of  flowers  and  butter  and  vegetables 
were  sent,  and  then  more  often  by  the  hand  of 


RALPH   MADDISON.  75 

her  housekeeper  or  maid  than  her  own  ;  and  the 
servants  she  had  about  her  were  all  new  and 
many  of  them  foreign,  and  held  no  communica- 
tion with  Kingscombe. 

I  can  hardly  believe  it  possible  that  at  some 
time  during  the  ten  years  and  more  that  the 
Humes  had  been  at  Kingscombe,  Mrs.  Lynch 
or  Sims  had  not  told  Dear  and  Clive  about  the 
young  master,  for  opportunities  were  never- 
ending,  as  when  Dear  was  holding  a  tangled 
skein  of  wool  for  Mrs.  Lynch  to  wind,  or  was 
sitting  on  a  large  turned-over  flower-pot,  while 
Sims  was  potting  out  geraniums,  both  of  which 
occupations  encouraged  long-winded  stories,  as 
also  did  wide-open  eyes  fixed  in  earnest  attention. 
And  the  supply  of  really  interesting  narrative, 
drawn  from  life  at  Kingscombe,  even  though 
that  life  extended  to  the  seventy  years  of  Sims, 
was  necessarily  limited,  as  conscience  obliged  a 
certain  adherence  to  truth  which  takes  most  of 
the  point  out  of  stories  of  real  life,  and  from  this 
I  feel  sure  the  baby  heir  of  Kingscombe  must 
have  figured  in  the  stories  at  times  ;  though,  as 


?6  DEAR. 

years  passed  by,  the  arrival  of  a  family  of  blind, 
crawling  kittens,  or  the  hatching  of  a  brood  of 
wise  little  yellow  ducklings,  seemed  of  more  im- 
portance at  the  Manor  than  the  birth  of  the  heir 
fourteen  years  ago,  so  great  is  the  all-powerful 
present. 

Anyhow,  if  they  had  ever  heard  of  him,  Dear 
and  Clive  had  altogether  forgotten  the  existence 
of  such  a  person  as  Ralph  Maddison,  until  one 
June  day  they  became  aware  of  him,  standing 
by  the  thick  yew  hedge  below  the  terrace,  and 
holding  in  his  hand  a  thrush's  nest.  A  thrush, 
did  I  say  ?  the  thrush,  the  one  who  built  year 
after  year  in  that  very  same  place,  where  the 
yew  is  cut  square  and  meets  the  balustrade ;  a 
privileged  creature,  who  hardly  flew  off  when  the 
children  came  to  peep  at  her,  and  whose  young 
ones  stretched  out  long  bare  necks  and  gaping 
mouths  in  expectation  of  the  tender  little  red 
worms  Clive  brought  to  regale  them. 

Even  Meg,  Mrs.  Lynch's  tabby  cat,  seemed 
to  understand  that  these  young  thrushes  were 
not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  year  after  year  the 


RALPH    MADDISON.  77 

course  of  true  love  had  run  smooth,  and  the  blue 
eggs  had  turned  into  ugly,  little,  wide-mouthed 
birds,  with  hardly  a  flutter  of  agitation  in  the 
speckled  breast  that  covered  them,  till  this  year, 
when  nest,  blue  eggs  (hard  on  hatching)  and  all 
were  torn  bodily  out  of  the  yew  hedge,  while 
the  mother  bird  flew  from  the  round  stone  ball 
on  the  balustrade  to  the  coping  above  and  back 
again,  uttering  cries  that  were  almost  articulate 
in  their  expression  of  grief.  Dear  heard  them 
before  she  was  around  the  corner  of  the  house, 
and  flew  along  the  terrace  with  dark  suspicions 
of  Meg,  who  was  not  always  so  trustworthy  and 
straightforward  as  could  be  desired,  and  then 
she  saw  Ralph  Maddison  with  the  nest  in  his 
hand. 

He  was  a  boy  of  fourteen  at  that  time,  a  few 
months  older  than  Dear,  and  considerably  taller 
even  then,  a  boy  with  a  pleasant,  smiling,  sunny 
face,  with  curly  chestnut  hair  and  blue  eyes,  with 
very  long  lashes  and  a  dimple  in  his  cheek ;  a 
very  pretty-looking  boy  now,  though  he  was 
getting  long-limbed  and  awkward,  and  of  an  age 


7<3  DEAR. 

when  prettiness  is  an  embarrassing  quality  which 
a  boy  would  willingly  dispense  with.  He  bore 
the  traces  of  having  been  quite  an  ideal  little 
boy,  when  no  doubt  that  pretty  chestnut  hair 
was  done  into  a  cockatoo  curl  at  the  top  of  his 
head,  and  he  sat  on  ladies'  laps  and  showed  off 
his  dimples  and  long  lashes,  and  said  pretty, 
lisping,  little  speeches  that  were  thought  marvel- 
lously clever  and  charming.  School  had  taken 
a  good  deal  of  this  nonsense  out  of  him  ;  these 
silken  darlings  have  a  hard  time  of  it  generally 
the  first  term  at  school  ;  but  a  naturally  sweet 
temper  and  a  capability  of  liking  and  being 
liked,  and  unlimited  pocket-money,  made  things 
easier  for  him  than  they  are  for  most,  and  he 
was  not  of  a  nature  to  provoke  bullying,  so 
perhaps  the  spoiling  was  not  fetched  so  com- 
pletely out  of  him  as  the  drastic  treatment  of 
school  can  sometimes  effect. 

Dear  saw  at  a  glance  that  he  was  not  one  of 
the  Kingscombe  boys — indeed  not  one  of  those 
would  have  ventured  on  such  an  act,  at  any  rate 
not  with  this  open  audacity  ;  but  beyond  this, 


RALPH   MADDISON.  79 

her  indignation  did  not  allow  of  her  noticing 
that  he  was  a  different  style  to  the  boys  of  the 
neighborhood,  though,  as  to  clothes,  if  she  had 
observed  them,  she  would  not  have  set  much 
store  by  them  as  marking  his  position  in  life,  as 
she  and  Clive  were  as  a  rule  much  worse  clad 
than  the  farmers'  families,  and,  for  the  matter  of 
that,  than  many  of  the  laborers. 

Ralph  was  quite  bewildered  by  this  sudden 
descent  on  him  of  a  flying  figure  with  a  mane 
of  fair  hair  floating  behind,  and  a  little  white 
face  with  great,  bright,  indignant  eyes. 

The  suddenness  of  her  appearance  complicated 
the  situation  still  more,  for  the  startled  boy  let 
the  nest  fall,  and  the  eggs,  unpleasantly  near 
hatching,  were  shattered  on  the  pavement. 

She  seized  hold  of  his  arm,  panting  out,  "  Oh  ! 
you  bad,  wicked,  cruel  boy !  How  dare  you  ? 
how  could  you  ?  why  did  Sims  let  you  in  ?  Oh  ! 
poor,  little  thrush  !  " 

And  then  she  cast  herself  down  on  the  stone 
step  of  the  terrace,  and  covered  her  face  in 
uncontrollable  grief,  while  Clive,  who  had  come 


So  DEAR. 

upon  the  scene  more  slowly,  stood  on  the  step 
above,  glaring  at  Ralph. 

"  I  say,"  Ralph  protested,  "I'm  awfully  sorry. 
I  didn't  know  it  was  your  nest,  or  that  any  one 
cared.  It  was  so  jolly  easy  to  take,  and  I 
thought  every  one  took  a  nest  when  they'd  the 
chance.  Why,  half  the  chaps  at  school  have 
collections  of  birds'  eggs,  and  some  of  them  take 
no  end  of  trouble  to  get  them,  and  climb  trees 
and  go  up  church  towers,  and  nearly  break  their 
necks  over  it.  I  had  a  jolly  collection  one  term, 
but  I  bought  my  specimens,  because  I  couldn't 
be  bothered.  Do  you  know,  I  don't  believe  I've 
ever  taken  a  nest  myself  before.  It  was  a  pity 
you  startled  me  like  that,  so  that  I  let  it  drop.  I 
might  have  blown  the  eggs  and  started  a  fresh 
collection." 

"You  couldn't  have  blown  them,"  Clive  said, 
with  undisguised  contempt ;  "  don't  you  see 
they'd  have  hatched  in  a  day  or  two  ? " 

"  So  they  would.  Don't  they  look  beastly  ? 
Glad  I  didn't  try  to  blow  them,  by  Jove  !  I  say, 
what's  she  crying  about  ?     There  must  be  kits 


RALPH   MADDISON.  51 

of   other  nests  about,  so  what   does   it   matter 
about  this  one  ?  " 

Just  then  old  Sims  came  up,  and  instead  of 
taking  the  part  of  Dear  and  Clive,  and  expelling 
the  intruder  with  a  sharp  lesson  to  teach  him 
not  to  repeat  the  offence,  he  stood  stammering 
and  touching  his  hat  to  the  strange  boy,  in  a 
manner  quite  new  to  their  experience  of  the 
old  man. 

"Well,  you  see,  Missy  Dear — asking  your 
pardon,  Master  Ralph — as  should  say  Master 
Maddison — Miss  Dear  here,  she  do  lay  terrible 
store  by  them  thrushes — and,  as  I  was  saying, 
Missy — there,  don'tee  cry  ! — seeing  as  the  whole 
place  like  belongs  to  he — leastways  will  when 
his  ma — begging  her  pardon — my  lady  is  took 
— though  it's  to  be  hoped  it  mayn't  be  for  many 
a  year  neither — properly  speaking  the  nesties 
being  part  of  the  place,  there  ain't  no  one  as  can 
prevent  it,  if  the  young  master  have  a  fancy  for 
'em — though,  knowing  your  feelings,  missy,  I'd 
aventured  to  say  a  word  if  I'd  been  anyways 
handy." 


82  DEAR. 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,"  repeated  the  boy.  "I 
say,  is  that  your  little  girl  ?  Do  make  her 
stop  crying." 

"  Blesh  yer,  no  !  "  said  Sims,  much  outraged 
at  the  suggestion,  but  anxious  to  show  proper 
respect  to  the  young  master.  "This  is  Miss 
Dear,  the  parson's — Reverend  Hume's  young 
lady,  and  that's  Master  Clive,  and  there  ain't 
one  in  Kingscombe  nor  for  miles  round  as  don't 
speak  well  of  our  parson, — even  the  chapel  folks 
ain't  a  word  to  say  agin  him,  as  is  more  than 
you  can  say  of  most." 

"  Oh,  I  say  ! "  said  the  boy,  "  that's  ripping. 
I  thought  when  I  was  sent  down  to  this  jolly 
old  place,  there'd  not  be  a  soul  for  a  fellow  to 
speak  to.  Mrs.  Lynch  has  been  talking  about 
you,  and  she  says  you  know  all  about  the 
pictures  in  the  hall,  and  can  tell  me  who  the  old 
buffers  are.  I'm  Ralph  Maddison,  you  know. 
I  dare  say  she's  told  you  about  me.  I've  been 
seedy,  and  the  mater  thought  I'd  pick  up  here  ; 
and  besides,  there's  been  scarlet  fever  in  my 
house  at  school,  and  she's  frightened  to  death  of 


RALPH   MADDISON.  8$ 

infection,  and  just  in  the  middle  of  the  season 
too,  when  she's  got  her  house  full,  and  no  end  of 
engagements.  You're  not  afraid  of  catching  it, 
are  you  ?  There's  no  fear,  only  one  chap  had 
it,  and  none  of  the  rest  of  us  went  near  him,  and 
there  was  a  lot  of  fuss  and  humbug  about  dis- 
infecting, sulphur  and  carbolic  and  beastliness. 
I  believe  that  was  what  made  me  seedy  to  begin 
with." 

Even  in  the  midst  of  her  real  and  entirely 
unaffected  sympathy  with  the  bereaved  thrush, 
Dear  could  not  be  uninterested  in  this  new 
incident  in  life ;  and  presently,  looking  from 
between  her  fingers,  she  saw  such  a  pleasant 
smiling  face  looking  down  at  her,  that  she  could 
not  continue  to  feel  resentment,  and  when  de- 
cent burial  had  been  given  to  those  unhatched 
young  thrushes,  she  found  herself  quite  good 
friends  with  their  ruthless  destroyer,  and  even 
showing  him  other  nests  in  ivy  or  apple  tree  or 
water  shoot,  confident  that  he  would  regard 
them  as  sacred. 

He  had  arrived  the  evening  before,  a  telegram 


84  DEAR. 

announcing  his  coming  having  nearly  produced 
an  apoplectic  fit  in  Mrs.  Lynch  during  the  after- 
noon, being  the  first  of  those  orange-colored 
missives  that  had  ever  reached  her.  She  at 
once  plunged  into  a  fluster  of  preparation,  quite 
half  of  it  being  entirely  beside  the  mark,  and  in- 
cluding several  things  that  might  quite  as  well 
have  been  done  during  the  untroubled  calm  that 
had  preceded  this  visit,  or  the  equally-peaceful 
period  that  followed  it, — such  for  example  as 
having  the  hen-house  whitewashed,  and  clearing 
out  the  cupboard  under  the  back  stairs,  and 
mending  the  china  shepherdess  that  stood  on 
the  mantelpiece  in  Mrs.  Lynch's  bedroom. 

She  laid  in  a  stock  of  provisions  as  if  for  a 
garrison  of  soldiers,  and  got  quite  hysterical 
over  some  tarts  which  did  not  come  up  to  the 
lightness  of  former  days. 

Mrs.  Maddison  had  really  made  one  sacrifice 
on  behalf  of  her  son,  for  she  had  sent  down 
with  him  her  butler,  Mr.  Duncan,  a  perfectly 
invaluable  man,  who  had  been  with  her  for  five 
years,  and  who  steered  the  household  through 


RALPH    MADDISON.  85 

the  whirlpool  of  the  London  season  with  a 
quiet  art  that  was  beyond  praise.  He  knew  all 
the  shades  of  position,  and  the  consideration  due 
to  each,  better  even  than  his  mistress,  and  made 
everything  easy  for  her ;  so  that  as  long  as 
Duncan  was  there,  she  did  not  feel  the  smallest 
doubt  of  everything  going  right.  So  we  must 
do  Mrs.  Maddison  credit  for  having  made  a 
considerable  sacrifice  for  Ralph,  more  a  great 
deal  that  another  mother  might  have  done  by 
giving  up  all  her  engagements,  and  cutting 
short  the  most  brilliant  season  at  its  very  zenith, 
and  rushing  off  to  nurse  a  son  in  small-pox  or 
diphtheria.  Why,  with  many  mothers  that 
would  be  no  self-denial  at  all,  only  as  perfect 
happiness  as  was  compatible  with  her  darling 
being  ill  or  suffering,  and  the  most  utter  self- 
sacrifice  would  be  to  keep  away,  if  it  were  for 
the  boy's  good. 

But  Mrs.  Maddison  was  not  a  mother  of  that 
sort,  and  she  made  no  insignificant  offering  to 
her  love  for  Ralph  (which  really  existed  to  a 
certain  extent)  in  sending  Duncan.     Sacrifices 


86  DEAR. 

must  be  judged  of  from  the  people  who  make 
them,  not  by  the  deed  done. 

Duncan  was  almost  more  alarming  to  Mrs. 
Lynch  than  Master  Ralph  himself,  for  after  all, 
boys  are  much  the  same  in  whatever  rank  of  life 
they  may  be  born  ;  but  there  is  no  knowing  what 
grandeur  gentlemen's  gentlemen  may  arrive  at, 
or  the  amount  of  respect  and  attention  they 
may  expect. 

But  Duncan  had  seen  too  much  of  the  world 
not  to  be  able  to  fit  in  pretty  well  in  any  cir- 
cumstances among  which  he  found  himself. 
He  had  travelled  nearly  all  over  the  world,  and 
had  known  downs  as  well  as  ups,  and  roughed 
it  as  well  as  lain  in  the  lap  of  luxury  ;  and  he 
had  a  good,  kindly  nature  under  all  the  varnish 
of  fashionable  service,  and  simple  tastes  that 
lingered  among  the  refinements  of  civilization. 
He  had  a  liking  too  for  Ralph,  which  the  boy 
warmly  returned,  having  spent  a  good  deal  of 
time  in  Duncan's  company,  as  the  exactions 
of  fashionable  life  made  it  impossible  for  his 
mother  to  have  the  boy  much   with    her,   and 


RALPH   MADDISON.  87 

since  he  had  been  out  of  the  nursery  and  had 
grown  long-legged  and  conspicuous,  he  was  not 
always  acceptable  in  the  drawing-room.  Besides, 
a  son  that  is  as  tall  as  oneself  is  rather  an 
awkward  testimony  as  to  the  flight  of  time, 
and  Mrs.  Maddison  was  a  very  young-looking 
woman,  and  if  people  did  mistake  her  for  two- 
and-twenty,  it  was  not  her  fault,  nor  was  it  her 
business  to  contradict  them  or  bring  a  great 
school-boy  forward  to  confuse  their  calculations 
as  to  the  possible  date  of  her  marriage. 

"  Ralph,  my  treasure,"  she  would  say,  "  I  know 
you  would  not  care  for  that  water-party  at 
Richmond.  It  would  bore  you  to  death,  as  it 
does  me.  You  would  much  rather  go  to  the 
Crystal  Palace  with  Duncan,  and  so  you  shall. 
I  only  wish  I  could  come  too." 

Or  again,  "  Mother  must  leave  her  boy  for 
a  few  days.  Lady  Westron  would  not  let  me 
off  my  visit,  though  I  did  my  best.  But 
Duncan  shall  take  you  down  to  Brighton  while 
I'm  away,  and  you  can  stop  at  the  Grand  and 
do  just  as  you  like." 


o5  DEAR. 

It  was  lucky  tor  Ralph  that  Duncan  was  the 
sort  of  man  he  was,  doing  his  diu:y  by  the  boy, 
and  keeping  him  out  of  mischief,  when  it  would 
have  been  easier  and  a  good  deal  pleasanter  to 
have  let  him  have  his  way,  and  only  his  mother 
would  have  been  to  blame  for  the  consequences. 
It  was  his  liking  for  Ralph  that  prevented 
Duncan  from  objecting,  as  many  a  butler  might 
have  done,  to  going  off  in  the  very  middle  of  the 
season  to  vegetate  at  Kingscombe,  and  he  was 
soon  hand-and-glove  with  Mrs.  Lynch  and  old 
Sims,  and  with  a  good  many  of  the  villagers, 
and  went  pottering  about  in  the  poultry-yard, 
or  doing  a  little  bit  of  gardening ;  apparently 
as  interested  in  the  little  doings  and  sayings  of 
the  place  as  if  he  had  lived  there  all  his  days, 
and  had  never  tasted  the  more  highly-spiced  cup 
of  London  life. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

BOY    AND    GIRL. 

"...  Her  fresh  and  innocent  eyes 
Had  such  a  star  of  morning  in  their  blue, 
That  all  neglected  places  of  the  field 
Broke  into  Nature's  music  when  they  saw  her." 

— MOORE. 

T3  ALPH  MADDISON'S  visit  to  Kingscombe 
Manor  lasted  three  months,  and  formed 
quite  an  era  at  Kingscombe  from  which  people 
dated.  "  It  must  abeen  the  winter  arter  Master 
Ralph  were  here,  "  or  "  Master  Ralph  hadn't 
been  gone  a  twelvemonth." 

He  was  a  general  favorite  in  the  place,  and, 
though  he  never  rivaled  Dear  or  Clive  in  the 
popular  affection  permanently,  still  there  was  a 
fascination  in  his  light-hearted,  gay  nature   and 

(39) 


90  DEAR. 

his  open-hearted  generosity  which  was  very 
irresistible.  But  there  was  no  rivalry  between 
them,  for  from  the  very  first  he  was  devoted  to 
Dear  and  Clive,  but  especially  the  former,  whom 
he  followed  about  like  her  shadow,  and  was 
imbued  by  them  with  the  love  and  reverence 
they  bore  their  father. 

Clive  and  he  had  occasional  little  rubs,  as  he 
could  not  at  all  sympathize  with  Clive's  thirst 
for  knowledge,  and  was  inclined  to  think  it 
was  humbug,  while  to  Clive  it  seemed  almost 
blasphemy  to  hear  him  talk  so  lightly  of  those 
golden  opportunities  of  learning,  and  the  pros- 
pect of  Eton  and  Cambridge,  which  to  Clive 
would  have  seemed  like  Paradise,  but  which 
Ralph  treated  as  a  bore  which  had  to  be  got 
through  somehow.  All  the  luxury  and  amuse- 
ment of  Ralph's  life,  which  he  described  to 
them,  seemed  trifling  and  insignificant  to  Clive 
in  comparison,  and  Ralph  found  a  more  inter- 
ested listener  in  Dear  when  he  described  theatres 
he  had  been  to,  and  the  Crystal  Palace  and  fire- 
works, and  a  visit  to  Paris,  and  big  dinners  and 


BOY    AND    GIRL.  91 

balls  he  had  had  glimpses  of,  and  his  beautiful 
mother  and  her  lovely  dresses  and  glittering 
jewels. 

"  What  is  she  like,  Ralph  ?  she  would 
ask.  "  No  one  at  Kingscombe,  of  course ;  but 
sometimes  at  Great  Cheriton  one  sees  very 
grand- looking  people.  There's  Mrs.  Moss,  the 
doctor's  wife,  she's  rather  stout,  but  she  dresses 
beautifully,  and  I  heard  Mrs.  Jones  say  she 
looked  like  a  duchess.  I  suppose  your  mother 
would  be  about  as  old  as  she  is,  for  Mrs.  Moss 
has  a  son  about  your  age." 

They  were  sitting  on  the  side  of  the  hill  as 
they  talked,  and  from  among  the  tiny  eyeb right 
and  spicy  thyme  and  sweet  fine  grass  they  were 
picking  out  the  little  white  snail-shells  with 
dainty  black  markings,  and  tossing  them  at  a 
sheep  feeding  just  below,  with  a  cracked  bell  at 
its  neck,  who  now  and  then  turned  up  a  black, 
expressionless,  stupid  face,  with  yellow,  glassy 
eyes,  and  gave  a  gruff  ba-a. 

"  Like  Mrs.  Moss  !  "  Ralph  protested.  "  She's 
as  much  like  that  sheep.     And  she's  not  old. 


92  DEAR. 

Why,  I've  heard  Clarisse,  her  maid,  say  that 
she's  been  taken  for  sixteen." 

"  Oh,  Ralph,  how  ridiculous  !  Only  two  years 
older  than  you.     Wasn't  she  vexed  ? " 

"  Vexed  ?  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  remember  some 
gentleman  speaking  of  me*as  her  little  brother, 
and  she  did  not  contradict  him,  but  looked  as 
pleased  as  anything.  She  doesn't  much  like 
my  calling  her  'mother'  before  strangers.  I 
had  a  sort  of  trick  of  saying  it  when  I  was  a 
kid,  whenever  I  spoke  to  her,  and  she  didn't 
like  it.  But  she's  awfully  fond  of  me  all  the 
same,"  the  boy  went  on,  with  a  note  of  defiance 
in  his  voice,  ready  to  take  up  the  cudgels  even 
against  a  glance  of  blame  for  his  beautiful, 
graceful  young  mother. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  Dear  said,  to  whom  it 
seemed  to  go  without  saying  that  a  mother 
would  love  her  son,  like  that  poor  thrush  whose 
domestic  happiness  Ralph  had  interfered  with, 
or  like  Dapple,  Farmer  Green's  Alderney  cow, 
whose  great  eyes  were  all  blue  and  shining  with 
agonizing   love   for    her    long-legged,    awkward 


BOY  AND   GIRL.  93 

little  calf,  and  whose  mournful  cries  filled  the 
night  after  that  same  calf  had  gone  jolting  off 
to  Great  Cheriton  in  a  cart  driven  by  a  butcher's 
boy.  "  Oh,  yes,  of  course  ;  mothers  always  are. 
Father  says  he  never  can  make  up  to  us  for  the 
want  of  that ;  though,  of  course,  she  goes  on 
loving  us  all  the  same  up  there.  Ralph,  I 
wonder  if  your  mother  is  at  all  like  what  ours 
was  ?  I  can  just  remember  her,  at  least  I  think 
I  can,  though  sometimes  I'm  afraid  it  is  the 
picture  of  the  Madonna  in  father's  room  that  I 
am  thinking  of." 

Before  Ralph's  mind's  eye  there  was  a  picture 
of  his  mother  in  her  boudoir,  where  the  light 
fell,  shaded  by  rose-tinted  curtains,  on  her  face 
where  the  bloom  was  too  delicate  to  allow  of 
boisterous  salutations,  which  might  also  disturb 
the  soft  curls  of  hair  which  were  arranged  with 
such  artistic  carelessness  by  Mademoiselle 
Clarisse.  A  soft  perfume  always  hung  about 
her,  and  her  voice  was  soft  and  slow,  and  her 
words  emphasized  by  graceful  movements  of 
her  slim  white  hands,  gleaming  with  diamonds. 


94  DEAR. 

She  had  a  way  of  letting  her  lids  sink  half  over 
her  eyes  and  then  suddenly  raising  them  and 
looking  straight  at  you,  with  a  look  that  seemed 
to  come  from  her  very  soul,  and  then  let  them 
slowly  and  languidly  sink  again.  It  was  a  very 
effective  performance,  especially  to  her  gentle- 
men friends,  each  and  all  of  whom  thought  that 
those  glances  were  only  bestowed  on  him  and 
on  no  other.  Even  Ralph,  to  whom,  perhaps 
for  practice,  such  a  look  had  been  given  now 
and  then,  was  as  firmly  impressed  as  any  other 
of  her  admirers  that  she  only  looked  so  at  him, 
and  he  could  quite  see  and  feel  that  look  as 
Dear  asked  the  question  whether  his  mother 
was  like  what  her  remembrance  of  hers  was. 

Everything  that  was  graceful  and  lovely  and 
loving  Ralph  thought  his  mother,  but  as  he 
turned  to  answer  Dear's  question — Dear  looking 
at  him  with  her  clear,  wide-open,  truthful  eyes, 
with  her  earnest,  sweet  little  face,  on  which  the 
sunshine  fell,  untempered  even  by  the  hat  which 
lay  at  her  feet,  with  her  soft  fair  hair  stirred  by 
the  little  hill-side  breeze,  and  behind  her,  as  she 


BOY   AND    GIRL.  95 

sat  with  her  little  sunburnt  hands  clasped  round 
her  knees,  the  soft,  billowy  undulations  of  the 
gray-green  hills,  cutting  sharp,  higher  up,  against 
the  pure  blue  sky — as  he  turned  to  answer,  he 
laughed. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  he  said,  "  not  a  bit !  Your  mother 
could  never  have  been  the  least  bit  like  mine." 

And  he  could  not  understand  the  feeling,  half 
amusement,  half  pain,  that  the  suggestion  roused 
in  him.  There  was  a  sort  of  absurd  impossi- 
bility about  the  idea  of  anything  so  open-air  and 
breezy  and  real  and  true  as  Dear,  having  any 
connection  with  the  artistic,  scented,  sheltered 
loveliness  of  his  mother.  He  did  not  analyze 
the  feeling,  which  was  neither  disloyalty  to  his 
mother  nor  disparagement  of  Dear,  who,  indeed, 
was  a  little  bit  hurt  at  his  vehement  disclaim- 
ing of  any  sort  of  likeness  ;  feeling  that  if  his 
mother  was  a  fashionable  lady,  beautiful  and 
elegant  beyond  all  comparison  with  any  one  in 
Kino-scombe  or  its  neighborhood,  hers  was  a 
saint  in  light. 

"I  tell  you  what,"  said   Ralph,  "I'll  get  the 


96  DEAR. 

mater  to  come  down  here  next  summer.  I 
don't  believe  she  knows  what  a  jolly  place  it  is. 
I'm  sure  she'd  like  it — at  least,  I  think  she 
would,"  he  added,  more  doubtfully,  as  he  tried 
to  realize  his  mother  at  Kingscombe.  "Anyhow 
she  might  like  it  for  a  few  days,  when  she's 
regularly  fagged  out  with  the  season.  By  Jove, 
it's  hard  work,  I  can  tell  you — calling,  and  driv- 
ing in  the  park,  and  matinees,  and  then  a  big 
dinner  and  two  or  three  balls,  or  at  homes,  or 
the  opera  every  night.  It's  pretty  stiff,  and  she 
says  sometimes  it  will  kill  her,  poor,  little 
mother  !  " 

"  Doesn't  she  like  it  ?  "     Dear  asked. 

"  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  she  really  does,  because 
she's  not  obliged  to  keep  on.  She  might  chuck 
it  all  up,  and  live  as  quietly  as  anything,  but 
then  she'd  get  bored." 

"  I  don't  think,"  Dear  said  thoughtfully,  "that 
I  quite  understand  what  being  bored  is.  Of 
course  I  know  what  the  word  means — tired  and 
disgusted  and  sick  and  uninterested  in  things, 
but  I  don't  think  I've  ever  felt  it.     But  perhaps 


BOY   AND   GIRL.  97 

one  doesn't  till  one  is  grown  up,"  said  the  girl, 
with  a  wonder  how  any  one  could  be  bored  in 
such  a  great  interesting  world,  full  of  people  and 
beautiful  things,  great  cloud  shadows  moving 
across  a  wide  landscape,  like  that  spread  out 
before  her  now,  corn-fields  rippled  suddenly  by 
a  little  breeze,  larks  springing  up  as  if  bent  on 
carrying  their  songs  to  heaven  itself,  blue  smoke 
curling  up  from  cottage  chimneys  among  the 
trees  down  there,  from  hearths  each  one  of  which 
had  some  story  of  human  interest  attached  to  it. 
Think  too,  of  all  the  spring  flowers,  and  the  birds' 
nests  (always  a  weakness  of  Dear's,  as  we  know), 
of  the  little  babies,  and  young  lambs,  and  then 
think  of  being  bored  ! 

She  did  not  know  that,  as  a  rule,  being  bored 
is  due  entirely  to  selfishness  and  narrowness  and 
want  of  sympathy. 

"Well,  anyhow,"  Ralph  said,  "if  my  mother 
doesn't  care  to  come,  I  shall.  I'll  come  every 
year,  and  when  I'm  a  man,  I'll  come  and  live 
here.  I  ought  to,  oughtn't  I,  Dear  ?  My  father 
lived  here  pretty  well  all  his  life,  and  was  awfully 
7 


9o  DEAR 

fond  of  the  old  place,  and  I  mean  to  be  the  same 
when  I've  got  through  that  stupid  old  Eton  and 
Oxford.  Dear,"  he  said,  with  a  softening  in  his 
voice  that  might  have  been  sentimental  if  he 
had  been  a  few  years  older,  "  you'll  have  to  put 
me  in  the  way  of  what  I  shall  have  to  do  when 
I'm  Squire  here.  It's  the  sort  of  thing  I  shan't 
pick  up  at  Oxford." 

But  Dear's  eyes  were  still  following  the  cloud 
shadows  across  the  landscape,  or,  half-dazzled, 
trying  to  find  the  lark  in  the  brightness  over- 
head, and  her  mind  was  still  pondering  the 
mystery  of  being  bored. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said  hesitatingly,  as  if  it 
might  be  profane  to  carry  such  speculations  into 
holy  ground,  "  I  wonder  if  grown-up  people  ever 
feel  bored  in  heaven — I  mean  while  they  are 
waiting  for  their  friends  to  come.  Oh  no,  of 
course  not.     They  couldn't,  could  they  ?  " 

"  I  think  my  mother  would,"  said  Ralph. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

EVENING    AT    KINGSCOMBE. 

"...  Her  angel's  face, 
As  the  great  eye  of  heaven,  shyned  bright, 
And  made  a  sunshine  in  the  shady  place." 

— Spenser. 

"  T  SHALL  come  every  year,"  Ralph  had  said, 

but  it  was  six  years  before  he  came  back  to 

Kingscombe,    and   then   again    he   came   quite 

unexpectedly.      He  wrote  once  or  twice  during 

the   year   that   succeeded    his  visit,    and    Dear 

answered,    telling    him    all    the   little   news    of 

Kingscombe,  and  especially  many  details  of  a 

fox  terrier  puppy  he   had   left   in  her   charge. 

But  in  his  next  letter  he  made  no  comment  on 

her  news,  nor  even  mentioned  Dan,  and  Dear 

for  the  first  time  in  her  life  realised  how  big  the 

world  is,  and  how  small  a  part  of  it  Kingscombe 

(99) 


IQ0  DEAR. 

forms,  and  how  soon  the  greatest  friends  can 
forget.  "  Even  little  Dan,"  she  said  ;  "  he's  for- 
gotten all  about  you,  Dan,"  and  she  kissed  the 
black  nose  that  had  not  lost  its  puppy  bluntness, 
and  the  round,  solemnly  foolish  young  eyes. 

"But  there,  Miss  Dear,"  Mrs.  Lynch  said,  to 
whom  she  had  confided  her  disappointment, 
"  you  didn't  ought  to  take  no  account  of  letters, 
least  of  all  boys'.  Why  myself  even,  half  the 
times  when  I  sits  down  to  write,  I  leaves  out  just 
what  I  wants  most  to  say.  By  the  time  I've 
got  through  all  the  hoping  folks  is  well,  and 
asking  after  one  and  another,  and  saying  how 
the  weather  keeps,  my  hand  most  like  has  got 
that  crampy  as  I'm  glad  to  finish  off  anyhows. 
And  sometimes  it's  the  spelling  comes  awkward, 
though  that  ain't  likely  to  stand  in  the  way  of 
gentlefolks.  Why,  there  was  a  man  as  I  knew, 
as  kindhearted  and  good  sort  of  body  as  need 
be,  and  not  one  to  bear  malice  or  be  hard  on 
any  one — he  set  down  to  write  a  letter  .to  his  son 
as  had  done  something  to  offend  him,  meaning 
to  give  him  a  touch,  and  then  come  round  and 


EVENING  AT  KINGSCOMBE.  10 1 

forgive  him  and  make  it  all  right.  He  got  on 
well  enough  with  the  letter  at  first,  and  gave  it 
to  him  a  bit  stronger  than  he  intended,  but 
when  he  came  to  the  forgiving  part,  he  couldn't 
spell  this  and  he  couldn't  spell  that,  till,  at 
last,  he  lost  patience  and  got  in  a  rage,  and 
finished  up  short,  thinking  as  how  his  son  would 
understand  all  he  meant  to  asaid.  But  there ! 
how  was  the  son  to  know  when  he  got  nothing 
but  hard  words,  and  he  just  packed  up  and  went 
right  off  to  Ameriky,  and  they  never  heard  no 
more  of  him,  as  pretty  near  broke  his  father's 
heart.  " 

So  Dear  forgave  Ralph  his  not  having  men- 
tioned Dan,  and,  as  affectionate  was  spelt  with 
one  f,  she  thought  that  perhaps  spelling  might 
be  at  the  bottom  of  it.  But,  when  she  wrote  a 
year  later  to  tell  of  old  Sims'  death  and  got  no 
answer,  she  could  make  no  such  excuses  for 
Ralph. 

But  all  the  same  Ralph  had  not  forgotten ; 
indeed  six  years  later,  as  he  travelled  down  to 
Kingscombe,    he  described   to   his    companion, 


102  DEAJR. 

between  puffs  of  his  cigar,  so  much  of  Kings- 
combe  and  those  three  months  spent  there,  that 
Dr.  Meredith  was  half  bored,  half  amused. 

Those  six  years  had  added  a  whole  foot  to 
Ralph's  stature,  but  had  not  endowed  him  with 
breadth  and  strength  in  proportion,  so  that  he 
looked  even  taller  than  his  six  foot  two,  and  his 
legs  seemed  inordinately  long.  His  face  was 
still  that  of  a  pretty  boy,  in  spite  of  the  light 
moustache  that  shaded  the  mouth  that  had 
something  childish  about  it  still,  and  his  voice 
seemed  hardly  to  have  settled  yet  into  manly 
tones,  or  his  cheek  to  have  lost  its  young  trick 
of  blushing ;  and  when  he  dropped  asleep  in 
the  corner  of  the  carriage,  with  his  hand  cover- 
ing his  moustache,  Dr.  Meredith  thought  he 
might  have  been  taken  for  a  pretty  girl,  with  the 
curls  on  his  forehead,  and  the  long  lashes  on  his 
pink-flushed  cheek. 

"  Poor  young  fellow  !  "  Dr.  Meredith  said  to 
himself,  for  who  knew  better  than  he  the 
delicacy  shown  by  the  soft  flush  and  the  thin 
white,  blue-veined  hand  ? 


EVENING   AT   KINGSCOMBE.  IO3 

Eton  had  had  to  be  given  up  after  the  first 
term,  and  he  went  to  a  private  tutor,  where  he 
took  it  very  easy  and  worked  as  much  or  as 
little  as  he  liked,  and  then  he  spent  a  winter  on 
the  Riviera  and  got  stronger.  And  then  he 
began  growing  so  ridiculously  tall,  and  grew  all 
his  strength  away,  and  Oxford  had  to  be  given 
up  ;  and  now,  this  spring  again,  he  had  been  so 
ill  that  the  pretty  little  house  in  Mayfair  had 
been  hushed  out  of  all  its  usual  gaiety,  and 
straw  had  been  laid  down  in  the  street,  and  the 
white  cap  and  apron  of  a  hospital  nurse  was  to 
be  seen  at  the  second-floor  window,  and  the 
doctor's  brougham  twice  or  three  times  a  day 
at  the  door,  and  the  servants  in  the  neighbor- 
hood glanced  up  many  times  to  see  if  the  shut- 
ters were  shut,  and  speculated  how  soon  there 
would  be  a  funeral  at  No.  37. 

"  And  his  ma  at  the  opera  last  night,  if  you'll 
b'lieve  me  !  as  ain't  no'art,  though  the  brougham 
waited  round  the  corner  so  as  no  one  shouldn't 
know  !" 

But  there  was  no  funeral  at  No.  57  just  at 


104  DEAR. 

present,  and  Ralph  got  better,  and,  when  he  was 
well  enough  to  be  moved,  proposed  himself  to 
go  to  Kingscombe,  which  was  a  great  relief  to 
Mrs.  Maddison,  as,  if  the  doctors  had  ordered 
him  to  some  out-of-the-way  place  in  the 
Engadine  or  Pyrennees,  it  might  have  been  con- 
sidered her  duty  to  go  with  him,  whereas  now, 
at  Kingscombe,  if  he  were  the  least  worse,  she 
could  run  down  directly. 

On  the  last  occasion  of  his  going  to  Kings- 
combe, we  gave  Mrs.  Maddison  credit  for  a 
great  sacrifice  in  sparing  the  invaluable  Duncan, 
who  now,  by  the  way,  had  become  Ralph's 
regular  attendant,  another  butler  having  taken 
his  place ;  but  now,  I  think,  we  must  give  her 
credit  for  a  still  greater  sacrifice  in  sparing  Dr. 
Meredith. 

Mrs.  Maddison  had  many  admirers,  but  none 
that  suited  her  so  entirely  as  the  young  doctor. 
The  youthful  officers  who  frequented  her  draw- 
ing-room were  all  very  well  in  their  way,  some 
of  them  danced  divinely,  most  of  them  brought 
her    exquisite    flowers,    many    of    them    could 


EVENING  AT   KINGSCOMBE.  105 

chatter  amusingly  and  were  up  in  the  gossip  of 
society  and  the  clubs ;  they  were  mostly  better 
looking,  better  dressed,  of  better  family  than 
Dr.  Meredith,  and  much  more  demonstrative  in 
their  devotion  to  her.  Mrs.  Maddison  did  not 
set  up  in  any  way  for  being  intellectual,  and  yet, 
I  believe,  it  was  Dr.  Meredith's  intellect  that 
made  her  think  so  highly  of  his  attention. 

He  was  a  clever,  rising  young  man,  his  name 
was  becoming  known  in  scientific  circles,  he 
wrote  abstruse  articles  in  reviews,  of  which  she 
could  not  even  remember  the  names,  though 
they  were  always  to  be  found  on  her  table 
among  the  society  papers  and  novels  that  littered 
it.  She  was  proud  of  having  such  a  man  in  her 
train,  and  she  liked  to  think  that  he  sought  her 
society,  silly  and  frivolous  as  the  world  esteemed 
her,  and  came  constantly  to  her  house,  when 
he  systematically  refused  invitations  elsewhere. 
She  did  not  appreciate  his  intellect  herself,  but 
she  liked  to  see  others  appreciate  it,  she  felt  a 
sort  of  reflected  glory  when  people  talked  in 
his  praise,  or  were  anxious  to  be  introduced  to 


'OO  DEAR. 

him,  and  she  was  gratified  at  his  being  treated 
as  her  property,  and  even  at  people  seeking 
her  acquaintance  with  a  view  to  arriving  at  his. 

She  did  her  utmost  to  make  her  house  pleasant 
to  him,  and  she  certainly  succeeded ;  she  had 
the  art  of  pleasing,  an  art  that  is  quite  inde- 
pendent of  beauty,  intellect,  wealth  or  position, 
and  rarer  than  either.  She  humored  his  weak- 
nesses, the  strongest  of  us  has  some ;  she  flat- 
tered his  vanity,  it  lurks  in  the  wisest  of  us  ;  she 
knew  how  to  leave  him  alone,  which  is  what  few 
women  understand  ;  she  did  not  call  his  fits  of 
abstraction,  sulkiness  or  ill-temper,  and,  when 
he  came  out  of  them,  she  was  smiling  and 
charming  as  ever,  making  him  feel,  what  no 
pique  or  reproaches  would  have  done,  remorseful 
for  having  been  so  dull  a  companion  and  so 
selfishly  absorbed. 

And  his  feeling  towards  her  ?  He  was  think- 
ing of  her  that  first  evening  at  Kingscombe,  as 
he  sat  out  on  the  terrace,  with  his  chair  tilted 
back  at  the  most  extraordinary  angle  against 
the  wall,  with  that  curious  tendency  men  have, 


EVENING  AT   KINGSCOMBE.  107 

when  very  much  at  their  ease,  to  adopt  some 
position  endangering  life  and  limb. 

Early  June  twilight,  with  the  sunset  crimson 
and  gold  deadening  into  purple  and  orange,  and 
the  air  full  of  such  an  infinite  variety  of  sweet 
scents  as  only  a  nose  fresh  from  London  could 
appreciate.  He  almost  wished  the  early  roses 
overhead  could  gather  their  sweetness  back  into 
their  dewy  cups  and  hold  it  there  a  minute,  that 
he  might  do  justice  to  the  others,  but  if  they 
had  done  so,  that  great  luscious  bed  of  lilies-of- 
the-valley  under  the  terrace  wall  would  have 
domineered  over  all  the  rest,  and  if  that  had 
held  its  peace,  the  bush  of  syringa  would  have 
filled  the  air  with  its  passionate  fragrance,  and 
prevented  the  sweet-briar  hedge  and  the  beans 
in  the  kitchen  garden  from  getting  their  due 
notice. 

He  was  thinking  of  her  that  evening,  in  the 
heavenly  hush  that  ears  fresh  from  the  muddling 
rattle  of  London  listen  to  almost  with  awe, 
silence  intensified  rather  than  broken  by  the 
tinkle    of  a  sheep's    bell   from    the   hill,  or   the 


108  DEAR. 

buzzing  boom  of  a  cockchafer  sailing  through 
the  air,  or  the  sleepy  call  of  a  thrush  (perhaps 
related  to  those  thrushes  who  had  suffered  at 
Ralph's  hands  six  years  before)  in  the  bushes 
near,  or  the  distant  call  of  a  cuckoo,  with  an 
irritating  third  note  introduced. 

But  you  will  call  me  to  order,  and  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  about  Dr.  Meredith's  thoughts  of 
Mrs.  Maddison,  only  his  thoughts  wandered  as 
my  pen  does,  tempted  away  by  eyes  and  nose 
and  ears  even  from  such  a  pleasing  subject  of 
mental  contemplation.  He  liked  Mrs.  Maddison 
— yes,  his  feeling  was  even  stronger  than  that,  he 
liked  her  very  much,  better  than  any  woman  he 
had  ever  known.  She  was  his  beau  ideal  of  what 
a  woman  should  be :  not  clever,  he  hated  clever 
women,  he  had  a  horror  of  the  enlightened 
young  lady  of  the  present  day,  and,  when  he 
met  with  such,  carefully  hid  his  light  under 
a  bushel,  and  talked  society  twaddle  of  the 
washiest  description.  Though  she  was  his  beau 
ideal,  he  did  not  idealize  her.  Is  that  a  contra- 
diction ?     I  do  not  think  so.     He  saw  her  faults, 


EVENING  AT   KINGSCOMBE.  IO9 

but  did  not  wish  to  alter  them,  they  were  the 
faults  of  her  sex.  She  was  shallow — oh  yes; 
but  who  expects  depth  in  a  woman — or  even 
desires  it  ?  What  is  so  intolerable  as  a  woman 
who  pretends  to  anything  below  the  surface  ? 
Let  the  surface  be  beautiful  and  graceful  as 
Mrs.  Maddison,  that  is  enough.  She  was  not 
always  truthful — but  there  again,  she  was  a 
woman,  and  those  little  arts  and  pretences  were 
part  of  the  feminine  nature  and  very  pardonable, 
much  more  so  than  the  abrupt,  rough  sincerity 
of  some  of  those  tailor-made  young  ladies  who 
tread  so  liberally  on  other  people's  toes.  He 
was  quite  aware  that  some  of  the  pleasing  effect 
was  due  to  art,  and  why  not  ?  if  the  real  thing 
was  the  sort  of  woman  that  meets  your  revolted 
eye  in  the  slums,  dishevelled,  rough-haired, 
brawny-armed,  bold-eyed,  or  even  short  of  that 
the  little,  dull,  uninteresting,  middle-class  wife, 
wrapped  up  in  her  babies  and  her  servants ; 
if  that  was  the  real  thing,  he  infinitely  preferred 
the  pretence,  which  was,  at  any  rate,  agreeable 
to  look  at. 


HO  DEAR. 

He  was  not  always  quite  as  cold-blooded 
about  her  as  this ;  there  were  times  when  he 
almost  thought  he  loved  her,  when  that  look  of 
hers  thrilled  through  him,  that  sudden  raising 
of  the  white  lids,  and  the  straight,  intense  look 
that  meant  so  much.  I  think  during  the  six 
years  that  have  elapsed  since  my  last  chapter, 
when  I  mentioned  that  look  as  lingering  in  her 
young  son's  mind,  that  look  had  grown  to  mean 
more ;  for,  you  see,  there  had  been  so  much 
practice  of  it.  Dr.  Meredith,  like  so  many 
others,  thought  that  look  was  only  for  him,  and 
more  than  once,  when  the  fascination  had  been 
strong  upon  him  he  had  been  near  offering  her 
what  remained  of  a  heart  given  over  to  science, 
and  the  feeling  which  he  fondly  believed  to  be 
love. 

But  each  time  something  happened  to  prevent 
this  consummation  and  the  spell  was  broken, 
and,  instead  of  feeling  disappointed  or  tantalised, 
he  was  conscious  only  of  an  infinite  feeling  of 
relief,  and  a  sensation  that  he  had  been  very 
near  making  a  fool  of  himself,  which  might  have 


EVENING  AT  KINGSCOMBE.  I XI 

enlightened  him  as  to  the  real  state  of  his  feel- 
ings toward  Mrs.  Maddison,  and  been  a  warning 
against  running  into  such  dangers  again ;  but,  I 
need  hardly  say,  had  no  such  effect. 

There  was  much  debate  among  lookers-on 
at  the  game,  who  -are  proverbially  supposed  to 
see  most  of  it,  as  to  what  Mrs.  Maddison  meant. 
If  she  had  wanted  to  marry  again  all  these  years 
since  the  old  Squire  died,  she  might  have  done 
so  again  and  again,  and  much  better  than  this, 
for  clever  man  as  he  was,  Dr.  Meredith  was  no 
match  for  her  as  regards  wealth  and  position  ; 
and  a  scientific  career,  however  successful,  does 
not  mean  riches,  or,  very  often,  recognition,  till 
old  age.  To  be  sure,  she  was  getting  old,  kind 
friends  said,  who  would  not  have  dared  to  say  so 
to  her  face  ;  and  her  admirers  were  getting  fewer 
and  younger,  and  she  could  not  face  daylight  nor 
bear  comparison  with  fresh  young  debutantes; 
the  present  fashion  did  not  exactly  suit  her  style  ; 
artistic  as  Clarisse  was,  there  were  lines  and 
hollows  that  even  her  skilful  hand  could  not 
obliterate ;  so  perhaps  Mrs.  Maddison  felt  there 


H2  DEAR. 

was  no  further  time  to  be  lost  if  she  meant  to 
marry  again.  But  the  world,  being  always  on 
the  look-out  for  complicated  motives,  often  over- 
looks the  real  ones,  which  may  be  the  simplest. 
Mrs.  Maddison  had  a  warm  feeling  for  Oliver 
Meredith ;  she  as  nearly  loved  him  as  she  was 
capable  of. 

Why  then  did  she  let  him  go  down  to  Kings- 
combe?  you  will  ask,  when  he  offered  to  go 
down  with  Ralph  after  his  illness.  There  was  a 
girl  whom  Mrs.  Maddison  suspected  of  having 
designs  on  the  doctor,  and  who  on  more  than 
one  occasion  had  seemed  to  amuse  and  please 
him,  and  when  Dr.  Meredith  himself  proposed 
going  down  with  Ralph  as  a  good  opportunity 
for  writing  some  article  he  was  engaged  on,  Mrs. 
Maddison  thought  it  was  an  excellent  way  of 
wafting  him  out  of  the  reach  of  this  bright-eyed 
young  minx,  who  seemed  acquiring  such  influ- 
ence over  him. 

"  Where  is  Dr.  Meredith  ?  "  the  minx  asked. 

"  Who  ?  Oh,  Oliver  Meredith  ?  He  has  gone 
down    to   my  place  in  Loamshire  with    Ralph. 


EVENING  AT   KINGSCOMBE.  1 13 

They  are  such  friends.  Isn't  it  nice,  dear? 
(Impertinent,  little  hussy  ! )  " 

"  Delightful,  dear  Mrs.  Maddison  !  (Old  cat !)  " 

It  was  heavenly  calm  and  quiet  down  there, 
Dr.  Meredith  thought.  Ralph  had  strolled  away 
with  his  cigar  an  hour  ago  towards  the  village, 
to  look  up  some  of  his  old  friends,  whom  he 
had  known  when  he  was  there  before,  and  the 
doctor  was  not  sorry  to  be  left  alone  to  the 
thoughts  that  were  more  companions  to  him 
than  any  boy  of  twenty. 

This  was  an  ideal  place  for  thought,  for  quiet 
work.  Where  he  sat  he  could  see  a  great 
shoulder  of  the  hill,  nearly  black  against  the 
dusky  orange  of  the  sky,  where,  even  now,  as 
he  watched,  two  soft  stars  came  gently  into 
sight. 

Last  night  he  had  been  at  this  time  in  my 
lady's  boudoir,  opening  out  of  the  drawing- 
room,  from  which  came  a  buzz  of  talk,  an  occa- 
sional song,  and  when  the  soft  silken  curtains 
that  veiled  the  entrance  were  pushed  aside 
for  a  moment,  there  was  a  blaze  of  light  and  a 
8 


114  DEAR. 

glimpse  of  the  sheen  of  elegant  dresses,  and  the 
glitter  of  gems.  The  air  was  hot  and  heavy 
with  the  scent  of  flowers — why  are  London 
drawing-room  flowers  so  different  from  those  in 
the  country  ?  There  was  an  exhaustion,  an 
oppression  in  the  air. 

He  had  come  to  bid  my  lady  good-night, 
and  as  she  leaned  back  languidly,  she  looked 
marvellously  young  and  fair,  and  looked  up  at 
him  over  the  great  soft  feather  fan  with  that 
look  full  of  meaning.  As  he  closed  his  eyes 
now  he  could  see  it,  feel  the  thrill  of  it  in  his 
veins. 

"  Are  you  asleep,  doctor  ? "  Ralph's  voice 
sounded  from  the  terrace  steps  above  him. 
"Are  you  having  a  nap?     This  is  Dear." 

Just  now  two  great  soft  stars  had  come  out 
in  the  sky  above  the  hill ;  now  from  the  terrace 
Dear's  eyes  were  looking  down  at  him. 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE    SLEEPING    BEAUTY. 

"  Here  all  things  in  their  place  remain, 
As  all  were  order' d  ages  since. 
Come,  Care  and  Pleasure,  Hope  and  Pain, 
And  bring  the  fated  Fairy  Prince." 

—Tennyson. 

1WTR.  HUME  and  Ralph  Maddison  made  a 
curious  contrast,  the  little  parson  being 
hardly  above  the  elbow  of  the  elongated,  young 
man,  who  always  maintained  that  Mr.  Hume  had 
distinctly  grown  smaller  since  he  was  there  be- 
fore, as  had  also  the  church  and  the  doorways 
at  the  vicarage,  against  the  lintels  of  which  he 
invariably  knocked  his  head  on  entering. 

Otherwise  it  seemed  to  Ralph  that  all  was 
precisely  the  same  at  Kingscombe  as  when  he 
was  there  six  years  before.     It  might  have  been 

(i  15) 


Il6  DEA.R. 

the  palace  of  the  sleeping  beauty,  grown  round 
by  the  sweet  wildbriar,  and  shut  in  from  all 
the  noise  and  change  and  turmoil  of  the  world 
outside.  Why  that  very  first  evening,  as  Ralph 
walked  up  through  the  village,  he  was  reminded 
of  the  old  fairy  tale  by  coming  round  the  corner 
of  the  Bush  just  in  time  to  see  Polly  Bristow, 
the  landlord's  daughter,  box  the  ears  of  a  too- 
admiring  swain.  Why!  their  courtship  had 
reached  that  stage  six  years  before ;  he  remem- 
bered Tom  West  with  a  crimson  ear,  and  the 
loud,  hoarse  laugh,  with  which  he  tried  to  cover 
his  discomfiture,  echoed  still  in  Ralph's  memory. 

On  the  Bench  outside  the  Bush  sat  the  same 
men  in  the  same  positions,  with  the  same 
vacantly-staring  faces,  as  if  they  might  have 
been  sitting  there  for  the  past  six  years  ;  the 
very  smoke  from  their  pipes  seemed  to  hang 
in  the  same  wreaths  Ralph  recollected  when 
smoking  was  an  unexplored  country  to  him 
personally. 

The  illusion  was  greatly  enhanced  by  meeting 
Mr.   Hume  at  the  churchyard  gate,  and   being 


THE   SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  1 17 

greeted  by  him  as  if  they  had  only  parted  half 
an  hour  before.  The  little  parson  was  un- 
changed, except,  as  I  said  before,  that  it  seemed 
to  Ralph  that  he  had  grown  smaller.  That 
might  have  been  the  same  dust  on  his  coat  and 
the  same  withered  buttercup  in  his  button-hole 
that  Ralph  remembered  some  friendly  baby  had 
stuck  in  six  years  ago  ;  and  now,  as  then,  Mr. 
Hume  would  have  passed  on  without  noticing 
the  tall  young  man  who  was  so  conspicuous  to 
others,  if  Ralph  had  not  put  himself  directly  in 
his  way. 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  Ralph  Maddison, 
sir  ? " 

"  Forgotten,  my  dear  boy  ?  My  memory  is 
not  as  short  as  that.  I  am  so  glad  you  have 
had  such  a  fine  day  for  the  cricket  match." 

Could  he  be  meaning  that  cricket  match  in 
which  Ralph  had  played  for  Kingscombe  six 
years  ago,  the  day  before  he  left  ?  And  Mr. 
Hume  looked  steadily  all  the  time  at  the  top 
button  of  Ralph's  waistcoat,  which  was  about 
the  spot  where  his  face  had  been  when  he  was 


Il8  DEAR. 

last  at  Kingscombe ;  and  Ralph  had  an  eerie, 
queer  sort  of  feeling,  as  if  Mr.  Hume  could  see 
the  boy  in  his  cricketing  suit,  bat  in  hand,  and 
that  the  tall  young  man  with  his  light  tweed 
suit  of  latest  cut  was  impalpable  and  unreal. 

"  Come  and  tell  us  all  about  it,"  Mr.  Hume 
went  on,  still  addressing  that  top  button.  "  Dear 
wants  to  know  how  Kingscombe  got  on." 

And  then  he  took  hold  of  Ralph's  arm  (it  was 
rather  a  strain  to  reach  up  to  it)  and  took  the 
well-remembered  way  to  the  vicarage.  Was 
the  sleeping  princess  waiting  there  for  the  kiss 
to  wake  her  to  life  and  love  ?  Was  Ralph  the 
prince  before  whom  would  give  way  to  right 
and  left  the  prickly  wildbriar  thicket,  which 
had  baffled  and  closed  round  former  gallant 
adventurers  ? 

But  anything  fanciful  or  unreal  vanished 
when  Dear  came  across  the  little  garden  to 
meet  him,  though,  strangely  enough,  she  carried 
a  long  trail  of  briar-rose  in  her  hand,  just 
coming  into  dainty  pink  flower.  The  same 
Dear  as  the   one   of   six   years   ago,  not    much 


THE   SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  H9 

taller,  still  very  slight  and  girlish,  only  the  mane 
of  soft  fair  hair  was  plaited  up  round  the  little 
head,  and  the  skirts  were  longer  than  they  had 
been  when  she  came  flying  along  the  terrace,  to 
avenge  the  destruction  of  the  thrush's  nest.  . 

Ralph  had  seen  and  known  plenty  of  girls  by 
this  time,  and  had  been  what  is  called  "  mashed  " 
on  at  least  half  a  dozen  of  them,  and  once  or 
twice  he  had  thought  himself  very  hard  hit,  and 
once  he  had  been  quite  unhappy  for  a  day  or 
two,  and  had  assumed  a  cynical,  man-of-the  world 
tone,  and  talked  about  women  with  a  capital  W. 
What  a  very  small  experience  will  set  us  off 
generalizing  in  youth  ;  it  is  only  as  we  grow  old, 
and  not  always  then,  that  we  realise  how  the 
world  of  human  beings  is  made  up  of  individuals 
each  of  whom  thinks  and  acts  and  suffers  in  a 
manner  peculiar  to  him  or  herself.  All  those 
great  systems  of  classification,  orders  and  sub- 
orders, families  and  species,  worked  out  with 
elaborate  minuteness,  are  after  all  mere  helps  for 
human  ignorance.  God  sees  each  individual 
small  bright-eyed  bird  of  all  the  myriads  of  the 


1 20  DEAR. 

air,  each  insignificant  little  dewy  blade  of  grass 
in  the  boundless  prairie,  without  putting  each 
into  its  proper  species  or  family  or  order,  and  each 
individual  soul  without  classing  it  according  to 
its  race  or  nation  or  language  or  sex  or  century. 
And  have  you  ever  noticed  how  much  more 
individual  some  people  are  than  others  ?  how 
such  a  one  is  not  one  among  other  boys,  one 
among  other  men,  but  just  himself,  whom  you 
never  think  of  comparing  to  others,  or  judging 
by  others,  but  who  stands  alone,  a  law  unto 
himself.  I  have  wondered  sometimes  if  it  is 
looking  on  such  as  God  looks  on  all,  with  love, 
that  makes  them  seem  so  individual  ;  but  I 
think  there  is  a  difference  even  to  the  eyes  of 
love. 

Dear  was  such  a  one,  always  had  been  from 
her  babyhood  ;  but  then,  of  course,  few  eyes  but 
those  of  love  had  looked  at  her. 

"  She's  not  a  bit  like  other  girls,"  Ralph  said 
that  first  evening  at  Kingscombe,  though  he  did 
not  know  why  she  was  not,  not  being  able  to 
analyse   feelings    or   make    subtle    distinctions. 


THE   SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  121 

He  would  rather  have  liked  to  be  able  to  class 
her,  even  if  it  were  just  to  put  her  above  the 
other  girls  he  had  ever  admired,  and  to  say  she 
was  much  prettier  than  Violet  Martin,  or  sweeter 
and  more  graceful  than  Maude  St.  Clair. 

No,  she  was  just  Dear,  there  seemed  no  room 
for  comparison.  Her  very  name  seemed  to 
convey  this,  positively  Dear  without  comparison, 
not  more  dear  or  most  dear,  not  love  measured 
by  the  less  or  more  given  to  others,  but  in  the 
positive  degree,  denoting  simple  or  absolute 
quality,  without  comparison  or  relation  to 
increase  or  diminution. 

You  did  not  notice  with  Dear  if  her  dress 
were  in  the  prevailing  fashion  ;  I  do  not  expect 
it  ever  was.  I  know  that  in  after  times  critical 
eyes  from  which  love  was  absent  pronounced 
her  distinctly  dowdy,  and  I  dare  say  those  critical 
eyes  were  right.  But,  you  see,  the  fairy  princess 
after  her  hundred  years'  sleep  must  have  looked 
decidedly  antiquated  in  dress,  and  her  hair  must 
have  been  done  in  the  mode  of  the  fairy  prince's 
great-grandmother,  which    might  have    been    a 


122  DEAR. 

shock  to  his  aesthetic  taste  in  spite  of  all  her 
loveliness. 

And  there  was  Dan.  I  do  not  think  Dan 
could  have  been  asleep  all  these  years,  he  was 
always  so  wonderfully  wideawake.  He  was 
widely  known  and  respected  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, being  recognized  even  in  Cheriton  with  a 
"  Hullo,  Dan'l !  "  by  people  with  whom  neither 
Dear  nor  Clive  were  acquainted.  He  was  of  a 
peculiar  temper,  which  was,  no  doubt,  the  reason 
he  was  respected.  I  do  not  think  amiability 
wins  respect  whatever  else  it  may  gain,  and  he 
had  strong  likes  and  dislikes,  and  while,  I 
believe,  he  would  have  died  for  Dear  or  Clive 
and  one  or  two  others,  there  were  others  whom 
he  would  not  have  minded  dying  for  him,  and 
would  have  assisted  in  the  process  with  the 
greatest  pleasure  in  life. 

He  was  not  at  all  sure  that  he  liked  the  tall, 
long-legged  young  man  who  was  at  one  time 
supposed  to  be  his  owner,  but  who  had  quite 
forgotten  his  existence,  and  he  would  not  show 
off  nor  make  himself  agreeable,  but  sulked  under 


rHE   SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  12$ 

Dear's  chair  and  went  off  in  an  offended  way  to 
visit  a  friend  at  the  farm,  and  required  much 
coaxing  and  explanation  from  Dear  before  he 
could  be  reconciled  to  Ralph's  constant  presence. 

Ralph  concealed  his  having  forgotten  Dan 
when  he  saw  the  position  he  held  at  the  vicar- 
age, and  how  even  the  Vicar  begged  his  pardon 
when  he  trod  on  his  tail,  an  insult  which  Dan 
would  have  avenged  with  those  sharp  teeth  of 
his  on  most  other  people,  but  only  growled  and 
looked  very  injured  when  the  Vicar  did  it. 

Likewise  Ralph  concealed  in  the  depths  of 
his  heart  his  opinion  that  Dan's  pedigree  was 
doubtful,  and  that  an  uncut  tail,  though  much 
to  be  admired  in  theory,  is  not  ornamental  to 
a  fox-terrier  in  practice  ;  and  after  he  had  been 
at  Kingscombe  a  few  days,  this  opinion  was 
no  longer  his  to  be  concealed,  and  he  was  quite 
prepared  to  join  or  even  outdo  the  chorus  of 
praise  of  Dan'l's  perfections. 

Patty  would  not  allow  Ralph  even  to  fancy 
he  had  forgotten  her,  for  she  leaned  out  of  the 
kitchen  window  as  he  passed  that  evening  with 


124  DEAR. 

Dear  and  caught  hold  of  his  arm,  and  Patty's 
hold  was  not  to  be  ignored. 

"Why,  if  it  ain't  Master  Ralph!  Well  a- 
never  !  and  so  growed  as  there  ain't  no  knowing 
him  !  Sakes  alive  !  if  you  ain't  fine  and  tall — 
and  a  moustache,  too !  Why,  it  seems  only 
the  other  day  as  you  was  here,  and  come  in  from 
blackberryin'  with  your  knickers  that  torn  as 
I  had  to  cobble  'em  up  so  as  you  could  get 
home  decent.  Wasn't  you  a  one  for  blackberry 
jam,  too,  and  I  made  a  dozen  and  more  pots 
extry  just  apurpose,  thinking  as  you  was  coming 
down  the  next  year  as  ever  was,  and  now  I'll 
be  bound  you  don't  care  for  suchlike,  and  only 
relishes  French  kickshaws  and  rubbish,  though 
I  ain't  silly  enough  to  believe  as  even  French- 
men eats  frogs  and  snails  as  folks  pretends,  any 
more  than  that  London  streets  is  paved  with 
gold.  " 

But  Ralph  had  not  lost  his  taste  for  black- 
berry jam,  and  he  declared  he  could  eat  some 
of  it  now,  spread  on  a  slice  of  bread  with  a 
coating  of  clotted  cream  on  the  top,  a  prepara- 


THE    SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  125 

tion  which  he  remembered  Patty  spreading  with 
such  a  liberal  hand.  To  be  sure  he  called  her 
"  Betty,"  but  she  forgave  that  slip  of  memory 
in  her  gratification  at  his  remembering  the  jam, 
and  she  would  have  taken  him  at  his  word  and 
cut  him  slice  after  slice  off  the  big  loaf,  if  it 
had  not  come  out  that  he  had  only  just  dined. 

Perhaps  Patty  had  fallen  asleep  cutting  bread 
and  jam,  certainly  Clive  might  have  done  so 
over  his  book,  for  there  he  was  in  his  old 
favorite  place  under  the  lime  tree,  at  full 
length  on  the  turf,  leaning  on  his  elbows,  with 
some  book  of  untold  interest  to  him  and  untold 
dullness  to  other  people,  open  before  him. 

During  those  six  years  opportunities  had  not 
failed  to  help  Clive  on,  and  for  three  of  them 
he  had  attended  the  grammar  school  at  Cheriton, 
which  had  wakened  up  to  new  life  under  an 
enterprising  master.  Mr.  Jackson  felt  that  if 
only  all  his  pupils  had  been  like  Clive  Hume, 
Cheriton  Grammar  School  might  make  a  name 
for  itself  throughout  the  land  ;  but  it  need  not 
be  said  that  the  other  boys  had  not  the  same 


126  DEAR. 

thirst  for  knowledge,  indeed,  were  most  of  them 
quite  ready  to  become  total  abstainers  from  the 
cup  of  learning,  and  made  it  their  object  at 
school  to  escape  with  as  little  education  as 
possible ;  and  I  am  afraid  none  of  my  readers 
ever  heard  of  Great  Cheriton  Grammar  School 
before,  or  are  likely  to  do  so  again. 

But  Clive  was  eighteen  now,  and  for  the  last 
year  had  been  assistant-master  at  the  grammar 
school,  and  a  most  unsatisfactory  one  too,  being 
exceedingly  youthful  in  appearance,  and  not, 
therefore,  awe-inspiring  to  great  stupid  boys 
taller  and  much  more  manly-looking,  and  being 
far  too  much  ahead  of '  his  pupils  to  feel  any 
patience  or  sympathy  with  their  ignorance  and 
idleness. 

Mr.  Jackson  himself  was  a  little  bit  afraid  of 
Clive,  though  he  was  interested  in,  and  proud  of 
him.  He  felt  the  boy  was  fit  for  better  things, 
and  he  came  over  once  to  Kingscombe  and 
interviewed  Mr.  Hume  on  the  subject,  but 
found  him  very  unsatisfactory  and  unpractical, 
and  inclined  to  rest  contented  with  the  feeling 


THE   SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  1 27 

that  "  the  Lord  will  provide,"  a  faith  which  his 
experience  had  taught  him  was  always  justified. 
Mr.  Jackson,  however,  with  his  yearly  increas- 
ing little  family,  could  not  attain  to  this  faith, 
and  was  therefore  inclined  to  characterise  it  as 
presumption,  and  to  talk  of  "  God  only  helping 
those  who  help  themselves  "  (which  we  may 
most  of  us  thank  Heaven  is  not  true),  and  that 
we  have  Divine  authority  for  the  rule  that  it 
is  tempting  God  to  cast  ourselves  down  from 
the  pinnacle  of  the  temple,  even  though  we  are 
sure  of  the  angelic  care  and  power  to  preserve 
us.  Perhaps  what  is  faith  in  one  may  be  pre- 
sumption in  another,  it  is  difficult  to  define  the 
limits  where  one  ends  and  the  other  begins. 

So  Clive  continued  to  be  an  assistant-master 
at  Great  Cheriton,  a  Pegasus  yoked  to  the 
plough,  and  a  very  bad  plough-horse  Pegasus 
made ;  and  Mr.  Jackson  fumed  and  fidgeted, 
now  at  his  incompetence,  and  now  at  his  superi- 
ority to  his  position,  and  lent  him  books,  and 
spoke  of  him  whenever  he  had  the  chance  to 
influential  friends,  who  always  had  at  least  half 


128  DEAR. 

a  dozen  promising  youths  on  hand  requiring 
help  to  achieve  greatness,  and  who  took  off  a 
great  deal  too  much  per  cent  from  Mr.  Jackson's 
laudations  of  Clive,  and  forgot  all  about  him 
the  next  minute. 

So  when  Mr.  Jackson  heard  casually,  for 
Clive  was  most  uninteresting  and  uncommuni- 
cative in  the  matter  of  gossip,  that  young  Mr. 
Maddison  had  taken  up  his  abode  at  the  Manor, 
and  was  constantly  at  the  vicarage,  he  felt  a 
half -aggravated  remembrance  of  Mr.  Hume's 
faith,  which  he  had  stigmatized  as  so  un- 
practical, and  thought  that  indeed  the  Lord 
had  provided  for  Clive' s  future  without  Mr. 
Hume  stretching  out  a  little  finger  to  forward 
the  matter,  though,  I  am  afraid,  in  his  heart 
of  hearts,  he  attributed  it  more  to  some  people's 
disgusting  luck  than  to  the  ruling  of  Providence. 

But  whichever  it  was,  luck  or  Providence, 
what  could  be  plainer  than  that  the  young 
Squire,  whose  income,  large  as  it  was,  local 
report  greatly  exaggerated,  should  become  the 
patron     of    the    young    genius,    and    it   never 


THE   SLEEPING   BEAUTY.  1 29 

occurred  to  Mr.  Jackson  as  a  possibility,  that, 
with  this  splendid  chance  for  Clive  before  him, 
Mr.  Hume  should  not  only  not  take  advantage 
of  it,  but  that  it  should  never  cross  his  mind  to 
do  so. 

It  was  impossible  to  the  ordinary  run  of 
mortals  to  estimate  how  very  small  in  import- 
ance to  a  nature  like  Mr.  Hume's  are  such 
matters  as  wealth  or  position.  It  is  extra- 
ordinary when  you  consistently  regard  all  your 
fellow-creatures  as  souls  instead  of  bodies,  how 
bodily  adjuncts  fade  into  utter  insignificance, 
too  much  so  perhaps,  and  the  soul  of  ignorant, 
brutal  Joe  Hodge,  toiling  behind  the  plough, 
becomes  fully  as  interesting  as  that  of  his  Grace 
in  the  ducal  palace. 
9 


CHAPTER  IX. 

TWO    IS    COMPANY. 

"  Perhaps  the  smile  and  tender  tone 
Came  out  of  her  pitying  womanhood.  " 

— Tennyson. 
"  And  he  is  oft  the  wisest  man 
Who  is  not  wise  at  all.  " 

— Wordsworth. 

"D  ALPH'S  health  seemed  to  be  restored  by  the 
first  breath  of  Kingscombe  air,  and,  a  week 
after  his  arrival  there,  he  was  hardly  to  be  recog- 
nized as  the  long,  limp  invalid  who  left  Mayfair 
leaning  on  Dr.  Meredith's  arm,  while  sympa- 
thetic housemaids  peeped  at  him  from  the 
kitchen  stairs,  shaking  their  heads  in  mournful 
anticipation  of  being  able  to  say,  "  I  told  you 
so, "  when  the  very  speedy  termination  of  his 
illness  and  young  life  ensued. 
(130) 


TWO   IS   COMPANY.  I3l 

Mrs.  Maddison  received  most  reassuring  ac- 
counts of  his  improvement  from  Dr.  Meredith, 
and  felt  free  to  enjoy  what  was  left  of  the 
season,  without  fear  of  being  summoned  to  her 
son's  bedside,  and  also  free  to  accept  the  homage 
of  her  young  admirers,  without  calculating  the 
effect  on  Oliver  Meredith,  or  having  to  keep  a 
watch  on  him  to  prevent  his  falling  a  prey  to 
designing  girls,  like  the  minx  of  whom  mention 
has  been  made  in  another  chapter. 

This  too  was  to  be  her  last  year  of  freedom. 
She  had  firmly  made  up  her  mind  to  this,  for  if 
she  married  Oliver  Meredith,  she  meant  to  be  a 
good  wife  to  him,  and  yield  in  all  reasonable 
matters  to  his  prejudices.  She  pictured  to  her- 
self sometimes  quite  a  Darby  and  Joan  existence, 
only  Joan  must  wear  a  becoming  costume,  and 
the  tete-a-tete  must  not  be  too  prolonged.  Dr. 
Meredith  seemed  to  have  taken  quite  a  fancy  to 
that  horrid  old  place  down  at  Kingscombe,  and 
she  was  glad,  as  being  part  of  her  belongings, 
that  he  should  like  it  ;  but  she  hoped  he  would 
not  wish  to  live  there  as  her  first  husband  had 


*32  DEA.R. 

done  (she  had  begun  already  to  speak  of  him  in 
her  mind  as  her  first  husband,  though  the  second 
was  not  yet  a  reality).  She  could  not  quite 
bring  herself  to  accept  Kingscombe  as  the  back- 
ground of  the  Darby  and  Joan  picture,  but 
perhaps  it  might  be  endurable  for  a  week  or 
two  now  and  then,  and,  as  he  said,  it  was  an 
ideal  place  for  quiet  study,  he  might  retire 
there  when  he  was  writing  one  of  his  books,  or 
when  she  had  engagements  into  which  he  did 
not  care  to  enter.  Not  that  she  intended  that 
they  should  lead  the  divided  lives  many  couples 
do  in  society,  each  going  his  or  her  own  way, 
keeping  different  hours,  knowing  different  sets, 
and  hardly  aware  very  often  of  each  other's 
whereabouts  ;  that  was  bad  form,  she  considered, 
and  besides,  she  liked  Oliver  Meredith  too  well 
for  that. 

Oliver  expressed  no  wish  to  leave  Kings- 
combe, even  to  return  to  her  presence  ;  but  as 
his  keeping  away  was  infinitely  more  convenient 
just  then,  she  forgave  him  for  his  apparent 
coolness.     He  was  very  full  of  his    book,    and 


TWO    IS    COMPANY.  133 

there  was  a  little  too  much  about  it  in  his  letters, 
and  Mrs.  Maddison  sometimes  stifled  a  yawn 
and  now  and  then  skipped  a  sentence  in  the 
neat,  square  character,  though  she  was  all  the 
time  proud  to  think  he  should  write  such  things 
to  her.  If  some  of  those  superior  intellectual 
women,  who  treated  her  as  so  empty  and 
frivolous,  could  only  see  his  letters,  they  would 
indeed  be  surprised. 

He  enlarged  a  good  deal  on  the  improvement 
in  Ralph's  health,  "  though  indeed,"  he  would 
add,  "  I  do  not  see  very  much  of  him,  as  he  is 
more  than  half  his  time  at  the  vicarage,  or  on 
the  hills  or  the  river  with  the  Humes." 

Mrs.  Maddison  had  a  general  notion  of  the 
Humes  as  being  boys,  though  she  did  not 
trouble  her  mind  as  to  Ralph's  companions,  as 
long  as  he  was  amused  and  well,  and  the  idea 
of  their  being  boys  was  favored  by  Oliver 
dwelling  on  the  talents  of  Clive,  and  mentioning 
that  he  had  sent  to  London  for  some  books  for 
him,  and  let  him  come  and  read  with  him  some- 
times in  the  evening. 


134  DEAR. 

There  was  no  intentional  concealment  in  Dr. 
Meredith's  mind  when  he  avoided  the  mention 
of  Dear.  As  a  matter  of  fact  he  saw  little  of 
her,  at  the  beginning  of  his  stay  at  Kingscombe, 
and  when  he  did  she  was  always  entirely 
monopolized  by  Ralph,  so  that  Clive  and 
Oliver  were  rather  out  of  it,  and  took  refuge 
with  one  another,  and  by  this  means  he 
discovered  what  a  clever,  out-of-the-way  boy 
Clive  was. 

And  perhaps  his  avoidance  of  mentioning 
Dear's  name  may  have  been  from  the  same 
feeling  that  made  Ralph  deprecate,  half  with 
pain,  half  with  amusement,  the  idea  that  Dear's 
mother  could  have  been  in  any  way  like  Mrs. 
Maddison,  a  sense  that  although  he  knew  so 
little  of  Dear,  and  although  Mrs.  Maddison 
was  his  ideal  of  a  woman,  the  two  were 
utterly  opposite  and  incompatible  as  fire  and 
water. 

Oliver  had  taken  a  good  mathematical  degree 
at  Cambridge,  besides  distinguishing  himself  in 
science,  and  he  had  a  well-stocked  library  of  his 


TWO    IS   COMPANY.  135 

own,  and  a  power  of  getting  at  other  people's 
libraries,  so  though  it  never  occurred  to  Mr. 
Hume's  mind  to  make  use  of  Ralph  Maddison's 
being  at  the  Manor  to  forward  Clive's  prospects, 
it  practically  did  so  by  bringing  him  and  Oliver 
Meredith  in  contact. 

And  it  was  not  all  give  and  no  take  between 
them,  for  the  lad  was  only  too  delighted  to  be 
of  any  use  to  the  doctor,  to  copy  or  make 
extracts,  or  look  up  points  or  arrange  papers  ; 
and  even  while  doing  merely  mechanical  work, 
he  dipped  in  and  grew  so  interested  in  the 
subject  that  the  doctor  found  himself  led  away 
into  explaining  points  to  his  young  companion, 
and  listening  with  a  deference  he  had  often 
refused  to  older  and  more  learned  men,  to  the 
boy's  crude  but  always  intelligent  remarks,  and 
more  than  once  Clive  blundered  on  a  new 
light  or  a  suggestive  idea  that  was  of  good 
service  to  the  doctor. 

Oliver  grew  so  used  to  the  boy's  presence  that 
it  did  not  disturb  him  at  all,  and  if  he  were 
busy,  he  hardly  looked  up  from  his  writing  when 


136  DEAR. 

a  shadow  darkened  the  window  of  the  library, 
and  Clive  swung  himself  in  from  the  terrace 
and  settled  down  in  some  ungainly  position  (no 
doubt  inherited  from  his  father),  on  the  arm  of 
a  chair  or  the  edge  of  a  table.  Sometimes  this 
ardor  in  learning  would  put  to  shame  the  older 
man,  who  was  forced,  now  and  then,  to  agree 
with  the  preacher  of  old,  that  "  of  making  many 
books  there  is  no  end ;  and  much  study  is  a 
weariness  of  the  flesh  "  ;  and  at  such  times  the 
pen  would  pause  and  hesitate  and  stop,  and  his 
eye  wander  away  from  the  books  before  him, 
even  from  the  box  of  new  books  and  uncut 
periodicals  that  were  so  enthralling  to  Clive, 
away  out  into  the  June  sunshine,  to  the  flowers 
and  the  birds  and  the  butterflies,  and  all  the 
bountiful  life  and  movement  and  growth  and 
foliage  of  the  young  year,  and  to  Dear  gathering 
roses,  with  Ralph  holding  the  basket,  in  which 
she  placed  tenderly  and  with  a  certain  sort  of 
loving  respect,  each  blossom  as  she  cut  it. 

"  I  do  love  to  see  little  Missy  agathering  the 
flowers,"  old  Sims  used  to  say.     "  She  do  treat 


TWO   IS   COMPANY.  137 

every  one  on  'em  every  bit,  as  though  they  was 
a  Christian.  " 

Those  roses  were  to  go  to  London.  Oliver's 
thoughts  followed  them  there,  and  pictured 
the  careless  unpacking,  and  the  tray  heaped 
up  higgledy-piggledy  with  the  flowers,  and 
Mademoiselle  Clarisse  coming  and  turning  them 
over  to  pick  out  any  that  took  her  fancy  for 
"  miladi's  "  dress  to-night.  Perhaps  she  would 
select  that  very  rose  that  Dear  had  just  cut ; 
there  was  a  dewdrop  still  glistening  on  its 
creamy  petals ;  there  was  a  great,  soft,  velvet- 
bodied  humble-bee,  doing  heavy  homage  to  its 
beauty,  so  that  Dear  had  to  hold  it  still  for  a 
minute,  till  he  had  buzzed  out  his  drowsy 
compliment  and  sailed  off  to  another  flower. 
Clarisse  would  hold  it  up,  with  her  head  on  one 
side,  and  quick,  skilful,  brown  fingers,  arranging 
the  leaves  this  way  and  that  with  artistic  effect, 
and  pronounce  it  "  ravissante  "  to  place  among 
the  chiffon  and  lace  by  "  miladi's"  snowy  neck. 

Oliver  had  often  admired  some  such  studied 
effect,  but    now,  he  protested   to    himself   that 


13^  DEAR. 

there  was  a  certain  kind  of  profanation  in 
using  real  flowers,  and  that  fashionable  ladies 
should  content  themselves  with  artificial,  which 
are  beautiful  enough  in  all  reason. 

The  rest  of  the  flowers  would  be  used  for  the 
adornment  of  the  dinner-table.  A  young  lady 
from  a  florist's  came  in  every  day  to  arrange  the 
flowers  ;  such  things  are  made  quite  a  study  of 
in  these  days,  and  Mrs.  Maddison  liked  to  be 
abreast  of  the  wave  of  fashion,  and  to  have  her 
table  decorations  described  in  the  society  papers 
as  "  a  symphony  in  sweet  peas,  "  or  "  reverie  of 
tinted  autumn  leaves.  " 

Faugh !  could  those  have  been  flowers  from 
Kingscombe,  whose  aesthetic  arrangement  among 
the  wine-glasses  and  fairy  lamps  with  tinted 
shades,  had  been  so  often  the  subject  of  admir- 
ing remark,  and  whose  fragrance,  mingling  with 
that  of  soup,  French  dishes  and  wine,  had  hung 
so  heavily  on  the  air  ?  He  had  to  step  out  of 
the  window  to  reassure  himself  that  those  in 
Dear's  basket  had  not  such  odor  or  artificial 
posturing  to  display  form  or  color. 


TWO  IS   COMPANY.  139 

"  Don't  let  Ralph  interfere  with  your  valuable 
time,  "  Mrs.  Maddison  said,  as  he  bade  her  good- 
bye. "  I  would  not  for  the  world  have  con- 
sented to  your  going  to  Kingscombe  if  I  had 
not  thought  you  would  get  the  uninterrupted 
leisure  that  I  know  is  so  important  to  your 
work. "  And  as  Oliver  Meredith  travelled 
down  with  Ralph,  he  made  up  his  mind  that 
this  should  be  so,  and  that  he  would  not  have 
more  of  Ralph's  society  than  was  quite  agreeable 
to  him. 

There  was  no  difficulty  about  this,  he  found, 
from  the  very  first  evening  when  he  became 
aware  of  the  existence  of  the  Humes ;  and 
though  Clive,  as  we  have  seen,  soon  became  a 
constant  visitor  to  the  library,  he  was  in  no  way 
an  interruption  or  hindrance,  but  an  interest 
and  occasionally  a  help  to  the  busy  student. 

"Well,  good-bye!"  Ralph  would  call  to  him 
from  the  terrace  ;  "  don't  expect  me  back  till 
night,  if  at  all,  for  Dear  has  set  her  heart  on 
scaling  the  highest  point  of  the  hills,  and  I've 
got  Mrs.  Lynch  to  pack  us  some  lunch." 


140  DEAR. 

Or,  "  Tat-ta !  we're  off  down  the  river. 
Dont  feel  anxious.  Dear  can  swim,  and  she'll 
take  care  of  a  little  chap  like  me.  " 

Or,  "  I'm  going  to  drive  the  vicar  and  Dear 
over  to  Cheriton.  There's  a  clerical  meeting, 
and  I've  chartered  that  jolly  old  screw  from 
the  Bush,  and  am  going  to  drive  it  in  Farmer 
Green's  yellow  gig.  I  wanted  to  go  tandem, 
with  Green's  wall-eyed  pony  for  a  leader,  and 
the  vicar  had  no  objection,  if  he  knew  what 
tandem  was,  which  I  doubt  ;  but  Dear  thought 
it  might  look  like  a  circus.  " 

And  then  they  would  be  off,  and  their  voices 
would  grow  fainter  and  die  away,  and  soft 
summer  silence  reigned ;  stirred,  not  broken, 
by  the  buzz  of  a  passing  bee,  or  the  sudden, 
little,  silver,  shrill  song  of  a  wren,  or  the  tinkle 
of  a  sheep-bell  from  the  hill.  Sometimes  a 
russet-coated  robin  would  hop  on  to  the  window- 
sill,  and' look  first  with  one  round  bright  eye 
and  then  the  other  at  the  quiet  figure  at  the 
table  all  by  himself,  and  sometimes  a  rose-leaf 
would  flutter  in  at  the  window  on  to  the  paper 


TWO   IS   COMPANY.  I41 

on  which  he  wrote.  At  mid-day,  Mrs.  Lynch's 
solid  footsteps  would  echo  along  the  passage, 
and  she  would  come  to  the  door  and  ask  what 
he  would  please  to  do  about  lunch ;  and  he 
would  generally  please  to  have  some  brought 
to  him  on  a  tray,  and  escape  the  somewhat 
mouldy  pomp  of  the  dining-room,  with  its 
depressingly  substantial  furniture.  Then  all 
was  quiet  again  till  Clive,  after  his  daily  tussle 
with  those  stupid  and  disrespectful  boys  at 
Cheriton,  would  come  along  the  terrace,  dusty 
and  wayworn — and  often  out  at  elbows — and 
nearly  as  regardless  of  appearances  as  his 
father,  and  step  over  the  window-seat,  into 
what  seemed  to  him  a  Paradise  of  peaceful 
learning. 

It  was  certainly  an  ideal  place  for  study,  as 
Dr.  Meredith  had  decided  that  first  evening,  but 
such  is  the  perversity  of  human  nature,  there 
were  times  when  his  youth  asserted  itself  and 
rebelled  against  the  quiet  monotony  of  his  days : 
for  he  was  young  still,  not  so  very  much  older 
than  those  two  who  treated  him,  he  resentfully 


I42  DEAR. 

told  himself,  as  a  mummy  long  since  dead  to 
enjoyment  or  amusement.  He  was  fond  of  study 
it  is  true,  but  he  was  not  a  mere  bookworm  ;  the 
outside  world  of  nature  gave  him  infinite  enjoy- 
ment :  he  could  understand  the  exquisite  delight 
Dear  got  out  of  the  deep  crimson  heart  of  a  rose, 
or  a  tuft  of  bluebells  growing  in  the  crack  of 
a  mossy  gray  stone,  or  the  sunlight  through  the 
trees  on  the  beech-stems  ;  he  felt  just  the  same, 
though  she  always  turned  for  sympathy  to  Ralph, 
who,  good  blundering  creature  that  he  was,  never 
saw  at  the  moment  what  she  meant,  but  thought 
she  was  drawing  his  attention  to  an  earwig  in 
the  rose,  or  a  rabbit  dodging  among  the  rocks,  or 
"  something  queer  about  the  trunk  of  that  tree." 
And  one  morning,  when  they  took  it  so  en- 
tirely for  granted  that  he  was  up  to  his  eyes  in 
work,  and  when  indeed  he  was,  for  the  morning 
post  had  brought  him  a  roll  of  proofs,  he  took 
them  by  surprise,  and  himself  more  than  either 
of  them,  by  throwing  down  that  much-cherished 
proof,  and  following  them  out  on  to  the  terrace, 
and  saying — 


TWO  IS   COMPANY.  143 

"  I  think  I'll  go  with  you  if  you're  going  down 
the  river." 

He  was  sorry  the  moment  he  had  said  it ; 
never  had  the  peaceful  morning  in  the  library 
seemed  so  attractive,  or  his  proofs  so  interesting, 
or  the  importance  of  doing  them  in  time  for 
post  so  plain.  Ralph  gave  a  little  involuntary 
grimace,  which  was  not  one  of  unmixed  pleasure, 
though  he  said,  "  That's  right,  chuck  work  for 
once  in  a  way  ;  "  and  Dear  smiled  rather  uncer- 
tainly, for  she  was  a  little  shy  and  in  awe  of 
this  Dr.  Meredith,  who  more  from  his  learning 
than  his  years  seemed  so  much  older  than  her- 
self and  Ralph. 

I  do  not  think  they  any  of  them  enjoyed  the 
day  very  much,  though  it  was  as  lovely  as  heart 
could  wish,  under  the  willows  on  the  stream, 
with  the  light  touching  the  brown  water  here 
and  there,  and  the  broad  lily  leaves  which 
turned  up  red  rims  when  the  breeze  caught 
them. 

Oliver  was  possessed  by  the  feeling  that  he 
was  a  wet  blanket,  and  if  you  once  feel  that,  you 


144  DEAR. 

are  sure  to  become  so,  "and  he  felt  that  his  con- 
versation was  formal  and  pedantic,  and,  in  spite 
of  himself,  he  used  long  botanical  names  for  the 
flowers  they  came  across,  and  was  conscious  that 
such  unwilling  display  of  learning  on  his  part 
damped  and  repressed  all  the  pleasant,  uncon- 
ventional knowledge  that  Dear  had  acquired  in 
her  daily,  loving,  intimate  intercourse  with 
nature.  Just  because  he  would  have  given 
anything  to  be  natural  and  unreserved  and 
boyish,  and  even  a  little  silly,  he  found  himself 
talking  more  than  usually  sensibly,  and  express- 
ing himself  carefully  and  stiffly,  and  a  shade 
pompously ;  and  it  fretted  him  to  notice  Dear's 
gentle,  respectful  manner  to  him,  checking 
Ralph's  boyish  chatter  to  listen  with  courteous 
attention  to  what  he  was  sure  she  could  not 
fail  to  find  dull  and  tedious. 

Ralph  too  irritated  him  by  treating  him  as 
altogether  ignorant  of  rowing — he  who  not  so 
many  years  ago  had  rowed  in  his  College  boat, 
and  acquitted  himself  very  creditably.  To  be 
sure   he  was  out   of   training   and   practice,  but 


TWO   IS   COMPANY.  145 

even  so  he  was  a  long  way  better  than  Ralph, 
with  his  actual  want  of  bodily  strength  combined 
with  his  lack  of  science,  who  splashed  and 
strained  and  got  very  hot,  and  come  too  within 
an  ace  of  catching  a  crab  every  few  minutes. 

However,  Oliver  acquiesced  in  his  supposed 
character  of  aged  incapable,  and  refrained  from 
any  interference  with  the  very  bungling  manage- 
ment of  the  boat,  and  even  with  Ralph's  in- 
structions to  Dear  in  the  art  of  rowing.  He 
took  refuge  in  pretended  sleepiness  after  a  time, 
and  dozed  at  the  end  of  the  boat,  as  he  thought, 
to  relieve  them  of  the  constraint  of  his  waking 
presence,  and  as  they  thought,  because  he  was 
unutterably  bored  with  their  society.  And  by 
mutual  consent  their  water  expedition  termin- 
ated much  earlier  than  former  ones  of  Ralph's 
and  Dear's  had  done,  and  Oliver  hurried  back  to 
his  proofs,  and  shut  himself  into  the  library  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  and  a  determination  of  "  Never 
again  !  " 

10 


CHAPTER  X. 

INTO    FAIRY-LAND. 

"  To  sit  and  watch  the  wavelets  as  they  flow, 
Two, — side  by  side  ; 
To  see  the  gliding  clouds  that  come  and  go, 

And  mark  them  glide. 
Beneath  the  willow  when  the  brook  is  singing, 

To  hear  its  song ; 

Nor  feel,  while  round  us  that  sweet  dream  is  clinging, 

The  hours  too  long.  " 

— SULLY-PRUDHOMME. 

'  I  ^HAT  water  excursion  had,  as  we  have  seen, 
been  anything  but  a  success,  and  you  would 
have  thought  that  a  wise  man  like  Oliver 
Meredith  would  not  have  repeated  the  experi- 
ment ;  so  it  will,  perhaps,  surprise  you  to  hear 
that  before  another  week  had  elapsed  the  library 
was  again  deserted,  with  manuscripts,  proofs  and 
letters  in  alluring  array,  and  Dr.  Meredith  had 
gone   a-gadding.     And    after    this  it    happened 

(i46) 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  147 

almost  as  often  as  fine  days  occurred,  which  was 
very  often  that  year,  when  summer  seemed  on 
her  mettle  to  show  how  beautiful  she  could  be 
even  in  this  much-maligned  English  climate. 

He  had  not  the  least  preconceived  idea  of  going 
that  heavenly  July  morning  ;  he  had  listened 
without  much  interest  to  Ralph's  description  of 
his  plans  for  the  day,  given  as  they  breakfasted 
together. 

Ralph  was  not  very  well  that  morning,  and 
when  he  was  out  of  sorts  he  was  inclined  to 
establish  a  grievance,  and  work  away  at  it  in  a 
somewhat  tiresome  manner,  with  a  good  deal  of 
childish  reiteration,  and  a  persistence  which  would 
have  been  called  nagging  in  a  woman,  though 
why  it  should  be  considered  only  a  feminine 
accomplishment  I  do  not  know,  as  it  is  by  no 
means  peculiar  to  the  sex. 

Oliver  Meredith  wondered  whether  that  griev- 
ance (I  think  it  was  about  the  abominable  way 
the  boy  cleaned  his  boots)  would  be  aired  to 
Dear,  and  he  imagined  the  look  of  concern  that 
would  come  into  her  gray  eyes,  and  the  sympathy 


I48  DEAR. 

she  would  express  and  really  feel — not  of  course 
because  his  boots  were  badly  cleaned,  but  because 
he  was  vexed  about  it. 

Ralph  in  one  of  these  very  occasional  fits  of 
irritability  was  not  a  companion  you  would 
choose  for  a  long  summer  day  ;  and  yet  when 
Dr.  Meredith  saw  Dear  standing  out  on  the 
terrace  steps  waiting  for  Ralph,  he  felt  an  over- 
powering wish  to  go  too,  and  when  Dear  turned 
and  saw  him  standing  at  the  window  and  smiled 
and  said,  "  Good-morning,  Dr.  Meredith.  Won't 
you  come  with  us  ?  "  he  went. 

"  Go  on, "  called  Ralph  from  his  bedroom 
window,  which  was  above  the  library,  "  I'll  catch 
you  up  in  a  minute.  I've  sent  Joe  to  get  the 
boat  ready.  " 

And  so  they  went  slowly  on  across  the  meadow, 
where  the  mowers  were  just  beginning  to  lay 
down  the  undulating  tawny  grass  in  fragrant 
swathes  with  the  rhythmical  swing  of  their 
scythes  ;  then  along  the  narrow  path  through  the 
cornfield  with  the  green  .ears,  some  of  them 
twisted  nearly  to  the  top  with  pink  and  white 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  149 

bindweed,  tapping  against  Dear's  skirts  ;  and 
then  into  the  grateful  shadow  of  the  little  copse 
by  the  river  side  where  the  boat  was  moored. 

Ralph  had  not  overtaken  them  though  they 
had  walked  lingeringly,  and  stopped  to  watch 
the  mowers  and  pick  some  poppies  just  bursting 
with  their  crumpled  silken  petals  out  of  their 
soft  hairy  gray-green  sheaths,  and  for  some 
minutes  they  waited  for  him  by  the  boat,  and 
the  conversation,  though  it  mainly  turned  on 
flowers,  was  not  So  highly  botanical  and  hate- 
fully improving  as  it  had  been  on  the  last 
occasion. 

And  at  last,  instead  of  Ralph,  Duncan  appeared, 
out  of  breath,  for  he  was  getting  rather  portly 
with  advancing  years,  to  say  that  Mr.  Ralph 
was  not  well  enough  to  go  ;  he  was  very  sorry  to 
disappoint  Miss  Dear,  but  he  had  turned  giddy 
and  had  a  fall,  and  thought  he  had  better  lie 
down  and  keep  quiet. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  anxious  about,  Missy, 
he'll  be  all  right  to-morrow.  The  doctor  here 
knows  that  he's  subject  to  these  little  turns  now 


15°  DEAR. 

and  then,  and  they're  soon  over  if  he'll  only  keep 
quiet.  " 

And  Duncan  hurried  back  to  mount  guard 
over  his  somewhat  refractory  patient,  while  Dr. 
Meredith  assured  Dear  that  there  was  no  need 
to  look  so  pitiful,  and  that  the  kindest  thing  she 
could  do  for  Ralph  was  to  leave  him  to  Duncan's 
ministrations. 

"  How  fond  she  is  of  him,  "  he  thought.  "  I 
wonder  if  her  eyes  would  look  the  least  like  that 
or  her  lip  quiver  ever  so  little  at  the  thought  of 
any  suffering  of  mine  ?  " 

"I  suppose,"  he  said  aloud,  ubut — of  course 
not — "  And  he  tied  the  painter  decidedly  and 
a  shade  viciously  to  the  post  and  turned  away 
from  the  boat. 

"  What  ? " 

"  I  suppose  you  could  not  let  me  row  you 
instead  of  Ralph  ? 

"  Can  you  row  ? 

"  I  might  try.  " 

And  then  he  was  helping  her  into  the  boat, 
and  you  cannot  imagine  how  much  younger  he 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  I51 

felt  when  he  did  so  than  he  did  the  week  before, 
when  Ralph  had  carefully  steadied  the  boat,  and 
bid  him  step  on  the  middle  of  the  seat  as  he 
got  in.  And  Dear  watched,  with  surprise  and  a 
little  consternation,  the  skilful  way  in  which  he 
managed  the  sculls,  and  how  the  boat  swept 
smoothly  out  into  the  open  channel  without  any 
of  the  lurching  and  rocking  and  splashing  that 
had  seemed  a  necessary  part  of  the  business 
before. 

"Were  you  laughing  at  us  all  the  time,  "  she 
asked,  with  the  little  pink  color  coming  into  her 
face,  and  a  little  reproach  into  her  soft  eyes, 
"  when  you  sat  at  the  other  end  of  the  boat  and 
we  made  such  a  bungle  of  rowing  ?  " 

"  Laughing  ?  "  he  answered,  "  not  a  bit,  I  was 
much  too  cross." 

But  he  could  laugh  now,  not  at  her  or  Ralph, 
but  at  himself  for  his  cross-grained,  surly  fancies. 
These  were  all  put  to  flight  by  the  mere  feel  of 
the  sculls  in  his  hands,  the  dip  of  the  blades  in 
the  stream,  the  ripple  of  the  water  against  the 
sides  of  the  boat,  and  most  of  all  by  the  sight 


152  DEAR. 

of  Dear's  face  opposite  him,  sweet  and  gentle, 
but  without  that  look  of  respectful  attention 
which  had  so  disturbed  him  when  he  came 
before.  Old — not  he ;  he  felt  as  young  as  an 
undergraduate  in » his  first  term,  though  he,  I 
think,  is  generally  seriously  impressed  with  his 
age  and  experience;  as  silly  and  light-hearted  as 
a  boy ;  every  stroke  he  pulled  seemed  to  make 
him  less  wise  and  solemn  and  scientific.  He 
laughed  out  of  sheer  gaiety  of  heart ;  he  talked 
such  nonsense  as  surprised  himself  when  he 
thought  of  it  afterwards,  convinced  that  even 
Ralph  had  never  chattered  away  such  rubbish  ; 
but  at  the  time  it  seemed  the  pleasantest,  hap- 
piest, most  natural  expression  of  pleasant,  happy, 
natural  thoughts,  echoed  back  as  pleasantly,  as 
happily,  as  naturally,  by  that  most  sympathetic 
companion,  who  seemed  to  catch  the  thought  or 
whimsical  fancy  before  it  was  even  put  into 
words,  so  that  he  hardly  knew  if  it  were  he  or 
she  who  said  it. 

"  Where  are  we  going  ?  "  she  said.     She  was 
leaning   a   little    forward,    and    the  soft  breeze 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  153 

and  the  speed  of  the  boat  as  it  flew  through  the 
water  with  the  strong  steady  strokes  of  his  sculls, 
ruffled  the  tender  little  curls  on  her  temples,  and 
her  eyes  were  wide  with  the  exhilaration  of 
swift  motion,  and  her  lips  a  little  parted  with 
the  excitement  of  passing  beyond  the  usual 
limits  of  Ralph's  clumsy  rowing.  "  Where  are 
we  going  ?  " 

"  Into  fairy-land,"  he  answered.  But  indeed 
they  were  in  fairy -land  already.  It  was  not  far  to 
seek ;  it  lies  so  close  at  hand  to  some  of  us,  far 
nearer  than  seems  possible  in  this  matter-of-fact, 
plain  prose,  work-a-day  world  of  ours.  It  needs 
but  a  touch  from  a  certain  great  enchanter's 
wand,  and,  hey,  presto  !  we  are  there,  out  of  life's 
ugliness,  dullness,  and  discord,  into  love's  beauty, 
brightness,  and  harmony. 

Now  I  do  not  imagine,  dear  reader,  that  that 
early  July  day  was  more  beautiful  than  many 
another  before  or  since.  I  fancy  that  some  of 
the  haymakers  who  paused  in  their  toil  as  the 
boat  went  by,  to  stare  or  wipe  their  hot  fore- 
heads, or  take  a  pull  from  the  stone  jar  of  flat 


154  DEAR. 

beer,  used  strong  language  in  clumsy  Loamshire 
dialect  about  the  heat  of  the  sun  that  brought 
out  those  beads  of  perspiration  on  their  brows, 
and  made  them  so  thirsty  and  their  work  so 
burdensome.  I  think  that  the  cows,  standing  in 
the  shallows  and  whisking  irritable  tails,  thought 
more  of  the  flies  than  of  the  soft  shadows  from 
the  willows.  I  am  sure  there  is  many  a  stream 
in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land,  far  prettier 
and  more  picturesque  than  that  little  Loamshire 
river,  winding  between  meadows  and  copses, 
with  rushes  and  meadow-sweet,  loose-strife  and 
forget-me-not  fringing  its  banks,  and  lily  leaves 
rising  and  falling  on  its  placid  breast,  stirred  by 
the  passage  of  the  boat.  That  was  only  a  hoary 
old  water-rat  swimming  across  and  making  a 
widening  furrow  on  the  oily  smooth  water.  That 
was  merely  a  kingfisher  that  flashed  up  the 
stream,  with  a  glimpse  of  tropical  blue  and 
green,  flaunting  its  prismatic  brightness  before 
the  sober,  little,  brown  moorhen,  peeping  bright- 
eyed  from  the  sedges.  Those  are  only  roach 
who  flash  silver  sides  among  the  soft  green  hair 


INTO    FAIRY-LAND.  155 

of  the  weed,  as  eyes  peer  down  at  them  through 
the  water  or  red-finned  perch  drowsing  on  the 
gravel  bottom  with  heads  up  stream  and  with 
tails  lazily  beating  the  water.  These  are  only 
wood-pigeons  whose  purring  note  sounds  so 
soothingly  from  the  Scotch  fir,  whose  stem  gives 
such  a  rich  resinous  smell  in  the  warm  sun.  If 
you  or  I,  dear  reader,  had  been  there, — and  I  am 
glad  for  all  our  sakes  that  we  were  not, — we 
might  not  have  seen  anything  remarkable ;  but 
Oliver  Meredith  was  rowing  Dear  through  fairy- 
land, and  that  is  a  very  different  thing,  and  not 
capable  of  being  described  in  ordinary  prose, 
or  printed  in  every-day  ink  on  matter-of-fact 
paper. 

The  stream  was  not  always  wide  enough  to 
allow  of  Oliver's  keeping  up  the  speed  he  started 
with,  sometimes  it  was  weedy  and  overhung 
with  trees,  and  they  had  to  push  their  way 
among  the  reeds,  and  bend  their  heads  to  avoid 
the  willow  branches.  At  last  they  were  brought 
to  a  check  by  a  mill-dam,  and  a  kind,  old,  floury 
miller  came  to  the  bank  and   bade  them  come 


15^  DEAR. 

right  away  in  and  see  the  missus,  as  never  in  all 
his  born  days  had  a  boat  come  down  stream 
afore,  though  a  many  rowed  up  from  Cheriton. 
He  treated  it  as  an  excellent  joke,  and  laughed 
and  slapped  his  leg  with  such  energy  that  the 
flour  flew  out  in  clouds  all  about  him. 

He  did  not  know  much  of  the  Kingscombe 
folk,  but  he  had  heard  tell  of  the  Parson  there, 
and  this  here  was  the  Parson's  young  lady  ? 
Well  a-never ! 

And  "  his  missus "  came  hobbling  out  in 
answer  to  his  stentorian  calls,  much  crippled 
with  rheumatism,  with  a  kind,  mumping,  old 
face,  devoid  of  teeth,  and  wearing  a  chestnut 
wig  of  the  most  ingenious  character,  and  a  black 
cap  with  little  purple  bows.  She  set  a  little 
round  table  under  the  great  willow  on  the  grass 
plot  by  the  river,  and  spread  a  cloth,  and  brought 
out  home-made  bread  and  butter  and  honey- 
comb, and  a  great  brown  jug  of  ice-cold  cider; 
and  while  Dear  and  Oliver  partook  of  what  to 
the  latter  seemed  the  most  delicious  meal  he 
had  ever  enjoyed/  the  old  woman  knitted  with 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  157 

quick,  crooked  fingers,  and  the  husband  leaned 
against  the  railings,  smoking  his  little,  short 
pipe,  and  the  great  water-wheel  creaked  round, 
bringing  up  the  slimy  green  weed  on  its  black 
boards ;  and  within  the  mill,  the  big  stones 
ground  and  grunted  and  rubbed,  and  the  miller's 
man  came  to  the  door  just  above  their  heads  to 
see  what  the  master  was  after. 

In  after  years  every  small  detail  of  that  old 
mill,  and  indeed  of  the  whole  day,  was  photo- 
graphed on  Oliver's  mind,  and  if  he  had  had  the 
artistic  skill,  he  could  have  sketched  it  all :  the 
apricot  tree  trained  against  the  tarred  boards, 
with  little  woolly  apricots  just  turning  color  in 
the  warm  sun,  the  big  patch  of  house-leek  on 
the  tiles  above,  and  the  soft  coloring  of  emerald 
moss  and  orange-and-white  litchen. 

The  old  man's  garrulous  talk  and  the  click 
of  the  wife's  knitting  needles  mixed  with  the 
creaking  and  straining  of  the  wheel,  and  the 
grinding  of  the  stones,  and  the  soft  rush  of  the 
water.  In  years  to  come  he  could  conjure  it  all 
up,  with  the  central  figure  of  Dear,  then,  as  ever 


158  DEAR. 

afterwards,  the  centre  of  all  Oliver  Meredith's 
dreams  and  memories. 

How  quickly  the  time  slipped  by.  The^old 
miller  looking  at  his  great  silver  watch,  which 
came  with  difficulty  out  of  his  trouser  pocket, 
bringing  a  cloud  of  dust  with  it,  and  then  com- 
paring it  with  the  sun,  which  was  a  more  reliable 
authority,  declared  it  to  be  "'bout  of  a  three." 

"  There  ain't  no  call,  however,  for  you  to  be 
hurrying,  but  I've  a  job  to  see  to,  and  when  I 
gets  talking  I  loses  all  reckoning  how  the 
time's  going.  But  there,  it  ain't  often  as  I  gets 
visitors,  let  alone  visitors  down-stream,  as  is  the 
first  time  since  I've  been  in  the  old  place,  and 
that's  man  and  boy  nigh  upon  fifty  year.  It's 
the  first  time  as  you've  found  your  way,  but  I 
hope  as  it  won't  be  the  last  by  a  many,  for  it's 
right  down  glad  me  and  the  missus'll  be  to  see 
you  any  time  as  you've  a  mind  to  look  in.  " 

Yes,  they  would  come  again,  Oliver  assured 
the  miller  as  he  bid  him  good-bye,  and  thanked 
him  for  his  hospitality,  feeling  intuitively  that 
any  payment  was  out  of  the  question. 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  159 

"  We  will  come  again,"  he  said,  as  they  turned 
to  look  back  at  the  mill,  with  the  rich  warm 
afternoon  sun  full  on  the  long  tiled  roof,  on 
which  the  pigeons  were  strutting  and  preening 
their  feathers,  and  where  they  could  see  the 
white-coated  miller  standing  at  the  mill  door, 
shading  his  eyes  as  he  looked  after  them. 

"  Yes,  we  will  come  again,  "  Dear  answered. 
And  neither  of  them  thought,  strangely  enough, 
how  pleasant  it  would  be  to  bring  Ralph  to  see 
this  pretty,  out-of-the-world  nook,  or  pictured 
returning  to  it  in  any  way  except  these  two 
alone  together,  though  it  might  have  occurred 
to  their  minds  that  circumstances  were  not  likely 
to  repeat  themselves  so  as  to  throw  them  alone 
together  again  for  a  whole  long  summer  day. 

The  return  was  more  slow.  Perhaps  it  was 
because  they  were  going  against  the  stream, 
which  in  the  morning  had  sometimes  carried 
them  down  the  river  with  hardly  a  movement  of 
the  oars,  and  perhaps  they  did  not  care  to  hurry, 
for  the  afternoon  effects  in  fairy-land  are  as 
lovely  and  worthy    of   remark  as  the  morning, 


i6o 


DEAR. 


and  wanderers  in  that  magic  realm  find  so  much 
to  say  to  one  another  (there  is  never  more  than 
one  other,  mind  you,  so  do  not  set  off  to  seek 
fairy-land  in  company  with  more,  you  might  as 
well  go  alone),  and  the  words  they  say  are  to 
one  another  like  the  utterances  of  that  little 
girl  from  whose  mouth  a  benevolent  fairy  caused 
pearls  and  diamonds  to  drop  whenever  she 
opened  her  lips.  Sometimes,  to  be  sure,  unen- 
chanted  hearers,  or  those  listening  outside  the 
magic  pale  of  fairy-land,  might  mistake  their 
utterances  for,  those  of  the  other  little  girl  who 
was  doomed  to  produce  nothing  but  toads  and 
newts.  So  I  will  not  record  what  Oliver  Mere- 
dith said  while  the  boat  lay  for  so  long  under 
the  willows,  nor  what  Dear  answered  when  the 
tall  rushes  closed  in  all  around  them,  and  they 
could  see  nothing  but  the  blue  sky  above  them, 
with  the  velvety  bulrushes  dark  and  sharp 
against  it,  lest  perchance  the  deluded  reader 
might  mistake  it  for  the  toads  and  newts  instead 
of  the  pure  gems  Oliver  and  Dear  received  with 
such  delight. 


INTO   FAIRY-LAND.  l6l 

The  sun  was  nearing  the  horizon  when  they 
came  to  the  landing-place,  and  Oliver — oh  !  how 
reluctantly — fastened  the  boat  and  helped  Dear 
out.  Why  had  he  made  such  tremendous  haste  ? 
In  another  half-hour  the  sunset  would  have  been 
painting  the  sky,  and  yet  another  half-hour  and 
it  would  have  faded,  and  the  sweet  little  crescent 
moon  would  be  there.  He  felt  he  had  cheated 
himself  out  of  the  completion  of  this  exquisite 
day  and  cut  it  all  too  short  ;  and  yet,  looking 
back,  how  long  it  seemed  since  he  had  said,  "  I 
suppose  you  would  not  let  me  row  you  instead 
of  Ralph  ?  "  That  had  all  happened  in  another 
age,  long  ago  and  far  away,  before  he  entered 
fairy-land. 
II 


CHAPTER  XI. 


DAILY    LIFE. 


"  Room  in  her  heart  for  all. 
For  striving  stitchwort  as  for  oak  tree  tall ; 
Room  for  the  chickweed  at  the  gate,  the  weed  upon 
the  wall. 

A  glory  haloed  round 
The  very  wayside  grasses,  as  she  found 
The  highest,  holiest  loveliness  was  closest  to  the  ground. 

Others  might  dully  plod, 
Purblind  with  custom,  deaf  as  any  clod — 
She  knew  the  highest  heights  of  heaven  bent  o'er  the 

path  she  trod."  — Mary  Geoghegan. 

TWT  RS.  MADDISON  was  greatly  exercised  in 
her  mind.  At  the  end  of  the  season,  a  par- 
ticularly alluring  invitation  had  come  to  go  to 
a  house  in  the  north  of  England,  where  one 
of  her  youthful  admirers  was  celebrating  his 
coming  of  age  by  a  series  of  entertainments, 
and  a  house  full  of  nice  people. 

(162) 


DAILY   LIFE.  1 63 

He  was  very  urgent  that  she  should  come,  and 
though  she  had  no  particular  liking  for  him, — 
being  empty-headed  even  to  a  point  beyond 
even  her  endurance,  and  insufferably  vain  and 
purse-proud, — she  knew  she  could  twist  him 
round  her  little  finger,  and  that  she  would  have 
it  all  her  own  way,  and  be  treated  like  the  queen 
of  the  whole  affair. 

It  was  a  great  temptation.  Dr.  Meredith  had 
always  abominated  this  young  Dundas,  so  in 
the  future  which  she  contemplated  he  would 
have  to  be  dropped,  and  she  did  not  much 
mind,  but  she  would  like  to  squeeze  the  orange 
before  she  threw  it  away,  and  get  the  amuse- 
ment she  anticipated  from  presiding  over  his 
coming  of  age. 

Ralph  seemed  well  and  contented  at  Kings- 
combe,  and  what  was  more  important,  Dr. 
Meredith  was  the  same,  and  in  none  of  his 
letters  did  he  even  suggest  any  wish  to  leave 
or  any  other  engagements  which  would  take 
him  away.  He  wrote  less  about  his  book,  but 
this  was  rather  a  relief,  and  there  was   nothing 


1 64  DEAR. 

to  rouse  her  suspicions,  or  suggest  that  there 
could  be  anything  at  Kingscombe  that  could 
in  any  way  affect  or  interfere  with  her  plans  for 
the  future.  Ralph's  letters  were  of  such  a 
hurried  and  fragmentary  character  that  they 
did  not  convey  much  information,  and  if  he 
mentioned  Dear  Hume  casually,  Mrs.  Maddison 
did  not  trouble  to  think  who  it  was,  or  if  Dear 
might  not  be  the  adjective  written  with  a  capital 
in  Ralph's  somewhat  erratic  manner,  and  signify- 
ing one  of  the  Hume  boys,  though  such  terms 
of  endearment  are  not  usually  applied  to  boys. 

So  she  accepted  the  Dundas'  invitation  with 
an  untroubled  mind,  and  wrote  an  effusive  little 
note  to  Dr.  Meredith,  hoping  that  he  was  not 
being  bored  to  death  at  Kingscombe,  and  hold- 
ing out  the  hope  that  if  she  survived  these 
terrible  festivities  at  Dundas,  they  might  meet 
at  Ryde,  where  Colonel  Henderson  had  put  his 
yacht  at  her  disposal.  "  It  will  be  something 
for  him  to  look  forward  to,  poor  fellow,"  she 
said  to  herself,  as  she  directed  the  envelope, 
thinking  how  she  would  make  up  to  him   for 


DAILY   LIFE.  1 65 

those  dull  days  at  Kingscombe,  endured,  she 
was  firmly  convinced,  for  her  sake. 

She  found  the  visit  to  Dundas  Castle  suffi- 
ciently amusing,  not  quite  as  much  so,  perhaps, 
as  she  had  expected  ;  but  no  cosmetic  or  artistic 
dressing  can  restore  the  inexhaustible  spirits 
and  powers  of  enjoyment  of  youth,  though  they 
may  to  a  certain  extent  the  bloom,  and  she 
found  herself  now  and  then  looking  forward  to 
the  time  when,  as  Oliver  Meredith's  wife,  she 
might  relax  a  little  of  her  social  efforts,  and  the 
eternal  competition  with  girls  in  rude  health 
and  spirits,  aud  robust  debutantes,  who  could 
ride  all  day  and  dance  all  night  and  be  as  fresh 
as  a  daisy  in  the  morning. 

It  was  a  letter  of  Ralph's  that  first  aroused 
any  suspicion  in  her  mind  that  things  were  not 
going  on  at  Kingscombe  quite  as  she  would 
have  wished.  It  was  a  letter  written  in  one 
of  Ralph's  irritable  moods  when  he  was  not 
very  well,  and  when,  as  I  have  said,  he  was  apt 
to  take  up  a  grievance  and  harp  upon  it.  Dear 
had  kept  him  waiting  one  day,  not  very  long, 


1 66  DEAR. 

but  enough  to  make  him  fidgety  and  impatient, 
and  he  described  it  to  his  mother,  in  the  irrita- 
tion of  the  moment,  as  "  kicking  his  heels  for  a 
couple  of  hours  while  Dear  was  talking  to  the 
Doctor;  but  it's  always' the  way  now." 

"  H-m-m,  "  said  Mrs.  Maddison,  reflectively, 
when  she  had  read  this. 

How  quickly  and  brightly  those  summer  days 
at  Kingscombe  passed  away  !  I  suppose  there 
were  some  wet  days,  some  cloudy  mornings, 
some  dull  afternoons ;  but  Oliver  Meredith, 
looking  back  on  that  time,  could  not  recall  any 
such.  There  is  not  much  to  describe  in  that 
time.  "  Happy  is  the  nation,"  they  say,  "  that 
has  no  history,"  and  I  think  it  is  so  with  our 
lives ;  the  happiest  times  are  those  of  which 
there  is  nothing  to  record,  no  convulsions,  no 
earthquakes,  no  surprises,  no  startling  occur- 
rences, but  a  peaceful,  even  course  like  Nature 
herself   in   her   gentle,  imperceptible   progress. 

Oliver  Meredith  did  not  in  the  least  realise 
where  these  sunny  July  and  August  days  were 
leading  him,  he  did  not  look  forward,  he  did  not 


DAILY  LIFE.  1 67 

look  back,  he  lived  just  in  the  sunny  present, 
without  even  recognizing  that  it  was  Dear's 
presence  that  made  the  sunshine.  These  learned 
men  are  sometimes  the  greatest  dunces  in  the 
dame's  school  of  life  and  love.  His  publishers 
accounted  themselves  as  ill-used  men  at  that 
time;  important  letters  remained  unanswered, 
proofs  were  not  corrected,  suggestions  or  pro- 
posals ignored  or  taken  up  with  indifference 
and  want  of  interest.  Is  the  man  bewitched  ? 
they  asked  ;  and  I  suppose,  the  long  and  the 
short  of  it  is  that  he  was. 

Clive  was  a  little  bit  disgusted  with  him  too  ; 
he  had  seemed  quite  the  right  sort  at  first,  a 
man  who  saw  things  in  their  right  proportions, 
who  put  study  first  and  all  the  rest  nowhere, 
which  was  Clive's  present  sense  of  proportion  ; 
but  now,  when  Clive  came  in  from  Cheriton, 
dusty  but  ardent,  he  mostly  found  the  library 
empty,  and  Oliver's  precious  papers,  perhaps, 
fluttering  about  the  room,  if  a  mischievous 
little  breeze  had  stolen  in  to  mock  at  the  present 
scholar. 


roe  dear. 

And  when  that  blissful  time  came,  and  the 
Grammar  School  broke  up,  and  Clive  was  free 
from  those  detestable  dull  boys,  and  could 
fill  his  day  from  morning  to  night  as  he  liked 
best, — though  he  was  welcome  to  be  all  day 
in  the  Manor  library,  and  Oliver's  books  were 
quite  at  his  service, — he  did  not  have  much  of 
Oliver's  company,  or  if  he  did,  it  was  only  the 
outer  man  who  sat  there,  listlessly  fiddling  with 
a  pen.  Even  Clide  could  tell  that  it  was  no 
deep  thought  of  study  or  mental  research  that 
occupied  his  mind,  and  on  one  occasion,  when 
he  thought  the  Doctor  was  indeed  once  more 
concentrated  on  his  work,  and  bent  over  his 
page  with  the  old  devotion,  Clive  saw,  passing 
behind  his  chair,  that  he  was  sketching  in  pen 
and  ink  a  girl's  head,  not  very  successfully,  for 
he  was  nothing  much  of  an  artist,  but  good 
enough  for  Clive  to  recognize  that  it  was  meant 
for  Dear. 

"  Dear  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  with  that  feeling 
of  depreciation  which  brothers  of  unripe  years, 
however  affectionate,  have  for  their  sisters. 


DAILY   LIFE.  1 69 

It  does  not  come  within  the  scope  of  this 
history  to  chronicle  if  in  later  years,  when 
Clive's  time  came,  as  it  comes  to  most  of  us 
sooner  or  later,  he  looked  back  with  more 
leniency  on  Dr.  Meredith's  sad  falling  away 
from  the  paths  of  learning,  or  if  there  ever 
came  a  day  when  a  girl's  smile  would  upset  his 
ideas  of  proportion  for  good  and  all. 

It  must  not  be  supposed  that  Dear  had 
nothing  to  do  but  make  that  summer  holiday 
pleasant  to  Ralph  and  his  companion.  Dear's 
life  was  full  of  occupation  and  of  interests,  as  in 
the  old  times  when  she  found  it  impossible  to 
imagine  being  bored.  There  was,  first  of  all,  her 
father ;  do  not  imagine  she  stinted  one  moment 
of  tender  companionship  or  loving  care  for  him 
on  their  account.  The  course  of  years  had  made 
him  more  vague,  more  absent-minded,  less  capa- 
ble of  looking  after  himself  than  before,  and 
Dear,  with  Patty's  never-failing  help,  watched 
over  him  as  a  mother  over  a  child,  a  protecting 
care  mixed  all  the  time  with  that  deep  reverence 
which  his  saintliness  never  failed  to  inspire. 


I/0  DEAR. 

There  were  her  parochial  duties — children  to 
be  taught,  sick  to  be  visited,  old  people  to  be 
cared  for  and  cheered,  wicked  people  to  be 
pitied,  sorrowful  to  be  comforted,  happy  to  be 
sympathised  with,  all  to  be  loved  and  thought 
of  and  prayed  for,  and  you  may  be  sure  she 
was  never  missing  at  the  daily  prayers,  often 
forming  the  only  congregation  now  Clive  had 
to  go  to  Cheriton.  There  was  housekeeping 
too,  though,  of  course,  on  so  small  and  simple 
a  scale  it  was  no  great  matter  ;  and  Patty  was 
practically  housekeeper,  though  she  kept  up 
the  outward  show  of  deference  to  her  young 
mistress. 

There  was  also  a  variety  of  retainers,  biped 
and  quadruped,  who  demanded  a  good  deal  of 
attention  :  an  old  deaf  and  dumb  and  stupid 
man,  to  whose  dim  intellect  Dear  alone  could 
bring  a  glimmer  of  light  ;  an  idiotic  girl  with  a 
very  large  face,  who  came  and  stood  very  close 
and  looked  fixedly  into  Dear's  face  with  her 
strange,  senseless  eyes,  and  who  liked  to  think 
that  "  Missy  was  learning  Bessie  to  sew."     And 


DAILY   LIFE.  I71 

among  the  bipeds  I  ought  also  to  rank  the 
magpie  from  the  cobbler's,  whose  leg  Dear  had 
set,  and  who  loved  her  surreptitiously  with  its 
odd,  little,  crafty  heart,  and  took  every  oppor- 
tunity of  escaping  from  its  wicker  cage  and 
coming  solemnly  hopping  up  to  the  vicarage, 
appearing  generally  at  inconvenient  moments, 
such  as  prayer-time,  or  when  some  matter  of 
parish  importance  was  being  discussed,  coming 
flopping  in  at  the  window,  with  its  pale  blue 
eye  keenly  on  the  look-out  for  anything  it  could 
steal  or  any  mischief  to  be  accomplished. 

Then  there  were  weakly,  little  pigs  or  mother- 
less lambs  who  occasionally  required  her  care, 
and  broods  of  little  yellow  ducklings,  or 
chickens  with  the  pip  ;  anything  weak  or  ill 
or  miserable  found  its  way  to  Dear  to  be  cared 
for  or  comforted. 

Dr.  Meredith  used  to  wonder  sometimes  if 
Dear's  affection  for  Ralph  was  like  her  affection 
for  all  the  weakly,  dependent  things  she  came 
in  contact  with.  She  was  always  good  to  him, 
always  patient  when  he  was  irritable  or  fractious, 


I72  DEAR. 

though  he  very  rarely  was  so  to  her.  She 
considered  his  tastes,  she  gave  way  in  nearly 
everything  to  his  fancies,  she  humored  his 
caprices,  she  sacrificed  her  own  inclinations 
readily  to  him,  and  by  and  by  she  got  to  sac- 
rifice Oliver  Meredith's.  It  hurt  him  at  first ; 
he  chafed  at  the  feeling  of  her  preference  for 
Ralph,  but'  presently  he  got  more  than  recon- 
ciled to  the  treatment,  dwelling  with  delight  on 
the  difference  she  made  between  them,  realis- 
ing or  fancying  a  subtle  compliment  in  treating 
him  as  one  who  did  not  need  humoring  or 
consideration. 

"  I  had  rather  she  did  not  like  me  at  all," 
he  said  to  himself,  "  than  that  she  should  like 
me  as  she  does  Ralph,  or  a  sick  hen  or  a  lame 
puppy  dog." 

And  yet  when  his  hand  was  cut  with  a 
reaping-hook,  it  was  exquisite  satisfaction  to 
him  to  have  it  bound  up  by  Dear,  though  he 
knew  she  would  have  done  it  quite  as  readily 
and  tenderly  for  that  same  sick  hen  or  lame 
puppy  or  Ralph  either ;  and  though  it  was  not 


DAILY    LIFE.  173 

much  more  than  a  scratch,  he  made  the  most  of 
it,  and  carried  his  hand  in  a  sling  for  nearly  a 
week,  demanding  frequent  dressing  and  con- 
tinual pity,  which  Dear  was  not  backward  to 
give. 

Harvest  was  early  that  year ;  those  long, 
bright  July  days  ripened  the  corn  so  quickly 
that  by  the  time  the  last  heavily-laden  hay 
wagon  lumbered  into  the  rick-yard,  the  sickle 
had  been  put  in  in  Farmer  Green's  five  acres, 
and  the  waving  golden  glories  Dear  loved  to 
watch  ripple  and  undulate,  were  turned  into 
sheaves  in  the  harvest  fields. 

It  was  one  afternoon  towards  the  end  of 
harvest  that  Ralph  was  kept  waiting,  as  he 
complained  to  his  mother,  for  hours  while  Dear 
talked  to  the  Doctor.  Half  an  hour  would 
perhaps  have  been  nearer  the  mark,  though  Dr. 
Meredith  would  have  been  ready  to  declare  on 
oath  that  it  was  not  more  than  ten  minutes,  and 
to  Dear  the  time  seemed  no  longer.  They  very 
rarely  were   alone   together ;  that   long    lovely 


1 74  DEAR. 

June  day  had  never  been  repeated,  and  Oliver 
Meredith  could  have  reckoned  up  on  one  hand 
the  number  of  half-hours  he  had  spent  in 
Dear's  company  without  Ralph's  presence ;  and 
this  afternoon  as  they  walked  together  to  the 
place  where  Ralph  was  to  meet  them,  at  Farmer 
Green's  last  field,  from  which  they  were  to  carry 
the  final  load  that  evening,  perhaps  they  did 
linger  a  little,  to  notice  the  chequered  light  and 
shade  and  the  shafts  of  sunlight  between  the 
trees  and  the  broad  stubble  fields,  which  even 
in  their  despoiled  and  shaven  condition  have  a 
beauty  of  their  own. 

Ralph  had  gone  on  to  expound  to  Farmer 
Green  a  plan  he  had  in  his  mind,  of  having  a 
general  harvest-home  at  the  Manor,  with  a 
heavy  feed  for  the  men,  and  tea  and  cake,  which 
is  accounted  appropriate  food,  for  the  women 
and  children.  There  was  to  be  a  big  tent  and 
games  and  dancing  and  perhaps  fireworks  to 
conclude  with. 

But  the  farmer,  with  the  natural  conservatism 


DAILY   LIFE.  175 

of  his  class,  regarded  the  proposal  doubtfully, 
and  scratched  his  head  and  twisted  a  button  of 
his  coat  in  his  perplexity,  not  wishing  to  offend 
the  young  master,  but  convinced  that  what  he'd 
done  every  harvest  since  he  had  the  farm,  and 
his  father  afore  him, — and  come  to  that,  most 
like  his  grandfather  too, — must  be  the  best  thing 
to  do  as  long  as  he  held  the  farm,  and  his  son 
arter  him. 

"And  come  to  that,  come  next  year,  and 
Master  Ralph  ain't  here,  nor  no  one  at  the 
Manor,  how's  any  one  to  keep  it  up  with  all 
them  bands  and  music  and  fireworks  and  all  the 
rest  of  the  kick-up  ?  And  there'll  be  all  the 
chaps  thinking  themselves  ill-used  because 
they've  just  to  go  back  to  having  their  belly 
full  of  beef  and  plenty  of  beer  to  wash  it  down, 
as  has  been  good  enough  for  them  and  their 
fathers  afore  'em.     Thankye  all  the  same." 

This  pig-headedness  on  the  farmer's  part  to 
begin  with  upset  Ralph,  and  then  the  delay  in 
Dear  and  Oliver's  appearance ;  and  when  they 


Ij6  DEAR. 

came,  their  innocence,  which  he  thought  affected, 
of  being  at  all  behind  their  time  aggravated 
the  irritation,  and  his  ill-temper  produced,  as  we 
have  seen,  that  letter  to  his  mother  over  which 
she  pondered  at  Dundas  Castle. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

IN    THE    ORCHARD. 

"  And  Thought  leapt  out  to  wed  with  Thought 
Ere  Thought  could  wed  itself  to  Speech." 

— Tennyson. 

'""pOO  bright  to  last,"  Mrs.  Lynch  said  one 
morning  a  few  days  later.  She  had  a  va- 
riety of  such  little  cut-and-dried  axioms  about  the 
weather,  which  sometimes  came  true,  when  she 
was  able  triumphantly  to  call  you  to  witness  that 
she  had  said  how  it  would  be ;  and  sometimes 
did  not,  when  she  discreetly  forgot  her  prophe- 
cies and  infallible  signs.  "  Mark  my  words,  if 
the  fine  weather  ain't  going  to  break  up." 

Oliver  Meredith  remembered  her  words, 
though  it  was  not  in  the  physical  world  that  the 
breaking  up  of  the  fine  weather  came,  and  in  the 
cloudless  sunshine  of  the  ensuing  days  Mrs. 
Lynch  did  not  recall  her  evil  prognostications. 
12  (177) 


1 78  DEAR. 

It  was  such  a  very  beautiful  day,  with  that 
touch  of  autumn  freshness  that  is  so  exhilarating, 
though  it  tells  that  summer  is  over.  Oliver 
Meredith  felt  in  unreasonably  high  spirits ; 
perhaps  it  was  the  feeling  the  Scotch  call  "  fey," 
a  wild  elation  that  surely  precedes  some  calamity. 
He  felt  as  if  nothing  could  disturb  his  equa- 
nimity ;  he  cut  himself  in  shaving,  the  button 
came  off  the  back  of  his  shirt  collar,  his  egg  at 
breakfast  was  not  above  suspicion  (yes,  even  at 
Kingscombe,  under  Mrs.  Lynch's  lynx-eye,  such 
accidents  will  happen),  a  bothering  letter  was  on 
the  breakfast-table  that  demanded  immediate 
attention,  and  might  demand  a  visit  to  London 
very  shortly — it  all  ran  off  like  water  from  a 
duck's  back. 

We  most  of  us  know  what  it  is  to  wake  up 
with  a  presentiment  of  evil  which  is  not,  happily, 
always  realised,  but  it  is  much  rarer,  and  un- 
happily quite  as  unreliable,  to  wake  up  as  Oliver 
did  that  morning,  with  a  presentiment  of  good 
and  happiness  and  sunshine. 

There  was  this  much  foundation  for  it  in  his 


IN   THE  ORCHARD.  179 

case,  that  Mr.  Hume,  and  of  course  Dear,  were 
to  come  to  lunch  at  the  Manor  that  day.  It 
was  quite  an  event,  as  Mr.  Hume  had  not  been 
known  to  take  any  meal  away  from  home  with- 
in the  memory  of  mortal  man,  except  perhaps 
a  cup  of  tea  at  some  cottage,  or  a  bit  of  bread 
and  cheese  at  a  farm  ;  but  Ralph  had  made  such 
a  point  of  it,  that  he  had  at  last  reluctantly  con- 
sented to  come,  and  Ralph  had  amused  himself 
by  ordering  an  elaborate  luncheon,  though, 
"  Bless  your  heart,"  Mrs.  Lynch  very  justly 
remarked,  "  he  won't  see  no  difference,  and  had 
quite  as  lief  have  a  crust  of  bread  and  cheese 
and  a  drain  of  hard  cider." 

But  Ralph  was  resolved  that  the  viands  should 
be  of  the  choicest  description  that  the  resources 
of  Kingscombe  and  Cheriton  and  Mrs.  Lynch's 
old-fashioned  notions  of  cooking  would  allow, 
and  he  spent  the  whole  morning  pottering  in 
and  out  of  the  kitchen,  till  Mrs.  Lynch's  good- 
temper  almost  gave  way,  and,  as  she  said,  "  she 
got  that  flustered  as  she  hardly  knew  if  she 
stood  on  her  head  or  her  heels." 


180  DEAR. 

The  table  too  was  to  be  set  out  with  such 
state  as  the  somewhat  scanty  appliances  in  the 
pantry  would  permit ;  but  Duncan  was  ingenious 
in  contrivances,  and  the  table  presented  as 
elegant  an  appearance  as  could  be  wished,  when 
Ralph  had  been  persuaded  to  relinquish  his 
intention  of  arranging  the  flowers  himself. 

Dr.  Meredith  did  not  interfere  in  Ralph's 
arrangements,  but  still  could  not  settle  to^work 
in  the  library,  where  Clive's  reproachful  eyes 
looked  up  at  him  from  his  books,  so  he  set  off 
for  a  good  stretch  over  the  hills,  every  breath  of 
the  sweet,  clear  air  on  the  heights  adding  to 
the  feeling  of  exhilaration  and  hopefulness. 

And  on  his  way  back,  as  luck  would  have  it, 
he  overtook  Dear,  with  Dan  in  attendance, 
coming  back  from  a  visit  to  some  outlying 
cottage ;  Dan  in  high  spirits,  fancying  himself 
a  puppy,  and  dancing  round  her,  and  making 
foolish  little  dashes  after  birds,  in  a  manner 
quite  unlike  his  usual  staid  behavior ;  Dear, 
with  a  light  in  her  eyes,  and  a  little  soft  color 
on  her  usually  pale  cheeks,  due  perhaps  to  her 


IN   THE   ORCHARD.  l8l 

walk,  and  the  bracing  air  of  the  hill,  or  perhaps, 
Oliver  hoped  and  fancied,  to  his  sudden  appear- 
ance round  the  shoulder  of  the  hill. 

So  there  was  another  half-hour  for  Oliver 
to  reckon  up  as  a  cherished  memory — and  oh  ! 
if  you  come  to  think  of  it,  what  a  lovely  thing 
memory  is,  what  a  priceless  gift !  Only  think, 
if  the  thick  curtain  of  oblivion  fell  on  each  com- 
pleted thought,  or  word,  or  deed,  how  dreary 
life  would  be.  True,  there  are  things  we  would 
gladly  forget,  but  for  one  such  there  are  with 
most  of  us,  thousands  we  love  to  remember,  are 
there  not  ? 

She  was  getting  to  talk  to  him  without  reserve, 
to  tell  him  little  half -formed  thoughts  and  fancies, 
without  fear  of  his  criticism  or  ridicule,  to  turn 
to  him  for  sympathy,  to  trust  to  his  understand- 
ing what  she  meant  even  though  she  could  not 
always  put  it  quite  clearly  into  words.  And  in 
return,  he  found  himself  talking  to  her,  as  he 
talked  to  no  one  else,  expressing  real,  simple, 
natural  feelings  that  had  lain  hidden  away  under 
cartloads  of  conventional,  second-hand,  borrowed 


1 82  DEAR. 

worldly  wisdom  ;  he  told  her  of  his  mother  and 
his  boyhood — subjects  he  would  never  have 
thought  of  mentioning  to  Mrs.  Maddison,  and 
which,  no  doubt,  would  have  bored  her  if  he 
had. 

And  as  it  never  rains  but  it  pours,  not  only 
had  he  that  morning  walk  with  Dear  that  day, 
but  he  spent  nearly  all  the  afternoon  in  her 
company,  while  Ralph,  in  his  character  of  host, 
was  trying  his  best  to  entertain  Mr.  Hume. 

The  gardener  was  picking  pears  on  the  sunny 
south  wall,  and  Clive,  who  felt  that  noblesse  oblige 
not  to  shut  himself  up  alone  in  the  library,  as 
he  had  been  asked  to  lunch,  was  helping  store 
the  fruit  away  in  the  loft ;  and  Dear  and  Oliver 
helped  too  for  a  time,  and  then  wandered  on 
along  the  mossy  path  between  the  high  box 
edging,  pacing  up  and  down  in  the  sunshine, 
with  a  word  now  and  then  from  the  gardener, 
Sims'  successor,  who  had  inherited  the  old 
man's  longwinded  wisdom,  as  well  as  the 
traditions  about  Dear's  supremacy.  And  then 
they  reached  the  white   gate  into  the  orchard, 


IN  THE   ORCHARD.  .183 

where  one  of  the  Manor  Alderneys  was  rubbing 
her  fair  neck  on  the  paling,  expecting  Dear's 
gentle  caressing  touch  on  her  soft,  hairy  ears 
and  large  damp  nose.  It  was  not  all  cupboard 
love  that  those  great,  soft,  deer-like  eyes  ex- 
pressed, though  honesty  compels  me  to  state 
that  a  lettuce  from  an  adjoining  bed  was  received 
with  somewhat  rough  greediness. 

Then  they  went  on  into  the  orchard  among 
the  gnarled  and  knotted  old  apple  trees,  covered 
with  moss  and  lichen,  and  some  of  them  already 
dropping  red  and  yellow  fruit  in  the  grass  around 
them.  One  of  the  trees  at  the  further  end  had, 
in  some  freak,  grown  partly  horizontally,  so  as 
to  form  a  seat  cushioned  with  moss,  and  here 
they  rested  "just  for  a  minute,"  it  was  so  shady 
and  pleasant,  with  a  glimpse  through  the  trees 
of  sunny  country,  meadow-land  and  pasture. 
Was  it  only  for  a  minute  ?  There  is  no  know- 
ing, seeing  that  in  certain  conditions  time  does 
not  exist. 

After  all,  they  were  talking  on  quite  indifferent 
subjects,  and  might  have  gone  on  so  till  "the 


1 84  DEAR. 

minute"  was  over ;  he  had  not  thought  of  telling 
her  he  loved  her,  indeed  I  hardly  think  he  had 
told  himself  so,  in  so  many  words.  But  by 
chance,  as  they  sat  there,  his  hand  touched  hers 
as  it  lay  on  the  moss  of  the  apple  tree,  a  hand 
not  milk-white  like  my  lady's,  but  small  and 
soft  and  warm,  and  all  of  a  sudden,  as  if  it 
needed  but  that  touch  to  break  down  the  barrier 
between  them,  which  must,  indeed,  have  been 
growing  gossamer  thin  of  late,  he  had  her  hand 
in  both  of  his,  and  was  looking  into  her  half- 
frightened,  startled,  yet  not  unwilling  eyes,  as  if 
his  heart  were  looking  straight  into  hers. 

What  was  it  he  was  saying  when  that  sudden 
revelation  came  ?  What  words  were  they  that 
melted  into  thin  air  when  their  hands  met  ? 
Something  absurdly  trifling,  something  not  at 
all  apropos  of  what  followed.  It  was  something 
to  do  with  Dan,  he  fancied,  when  he  tried  to 
recall  the  scene;  the  cut  of  his  ears,  or  a  trick 
he  had  of  going  on  three  legs  now  and  then. 
But  what  does  the  way  matter  if  you  reach  the 
desired  end  ?  and    surely   that   end    had    been 


IN   THE   ORCHARD.  1 85 

reached  when  he  held  her  hand  in  his  and  his 
heart  rushed  to  his  lips. 

"Dear,"  he  said.  "Dear,"  and  his  voice  was 
deep,  and  full  of  such  meaning  as  might  have 
told  all  he  would  say,  without  another  word. 
Oh !  if  only  it  could  indeed  have  done  so  !  In 
after  times  he  tortured  himself  with  the  thought 
of  that  torrent  of  words  that  was  on  his  very 
lips,  and  of  that  moment's  hesitation  when  he 
only  stammered  her  name.  But  for  that,  it 
would  have  been  said,  let  what  might  have 
come  after  ;  he  would  have  told  her  that  he 
loved  her,  and  life  could  not  have  failed  to  be 
richer,  happier,  more  precious  for  ever  after. 

But  a  little,  silvery  laugh  from  behind  broke 
in  at  the  very  moment  he  spoke  Dear's  name, 
and  a  voice  said — 

"  Dear  me !  what  a  pretty  place,  and  so 
sweetly  rural  !  And  there  is  Dr.  Meredith,  I 
declare !  Why,  Oliver,  we  thought  you  were 
lost ;  we  have  been  looking  for  you  everywhere, 
and  I  would  not  let  Ralph  go  on  and  find  you, 
as  I  had  set  my  heart  on   giving  you  a  surprise. 


1 86  DEAR. 

And  this  is  Miss  Hume,  I  am  sure.  I  am  so 
pleased  to  make  your  acquaintance." 

And  Mrs.  Maddison  effusively  took  Dear's 
hand,  that  was  still  tingling  with  that  magnetic 
touch  of  Oliver  Meredith's  and  his  tender 
clasp. 

How  pretty  and  elegant  Mrs.  Maddison 
looked  !  No  one  would  have  thought  she  had 
just  come  off  a  long  journey,  still  less  that  the 
journey  of  her  life  had  been  twice  as  long  as 
Dear's.  She  was  taller  than  Dear,  and  her 
perfectly-fitting  travelling  dress  added  to  her 
height,  and  her  face,  under  the  little  veil,  showed 
an  almost  infantile  bloom,  and  her  eyes  smiled 
in  innocent  admiration  of  the  scene  around  her 
and  interest  in  the  girl  whose  hand  she  held  in 
kindly  condescension.. 

Oliver  heard  himself  asking  about  her  journey, 
and  expressing  apprehension  that  it  must  have 
tired  her,  and  regrets  that  he  should  have  been 
out  of  the  way  when  she  arrived,  and  inquiries 
as  to  how  she  thought  Ralph  was  looking. 
His  voice  sounded  to  him  unnatural  and  forced, 


IN  THE   ORCHARD.  1 8/ 

but  she  did  not  seem  to  notice  it,  and  presently 
he  found  himself  walking  by  her  side  up  the 
orchard  towards  the  house,  while  Ralph  followed 
with  Dear.  How  different  it  all  looked !  The 
sun  was  behind  a  cloud,  and  the  colors  of  grass 
and  foliage  and  mossy  trunks  had  turned  dull 
and  dead  ;  a  wasp  flew  up  from  an  over-ripe 
pear  on  the  ground  and  buzzed  angrily  about 
them,  and  Mrs.  Maddison  gave  a  little  scream  of 
disgust  as  she  brushed  an  earwig  off  Oliver's 
sleeve.  Ugh !  after  all  an  orchard  is  an  un- 
pleasant earwiggy  place  to  stop  long  in  ! 

"  You  did  not  tell  me  what  a  pretty,  little  girl 
Mr.  Hume's  daughter  is,"  she  said,  "  Jessie  or 
Daisy  or  Dolly — what  is  her  name  ?  quite  a 
rustic  belle  ;  she  would  be  quite  presentable  if 
she  were  properly  dressed.  Ralph  is  greatly 
Ipris  with  her,  is  he  not  ?  Poor  boy  !  he  is  so 
impressionable." 

And  Oliver  heard  that  contemptible  creature, 
Dr.  Meredith,  laughing  and  replying  vaguely,  as 
if  he  agreed  with  what  she  said,  instead  of 
saying   that   whatever    Ralph's    opinion  of   her 


1 88  DEAR. 

might  be,  he,  Oliver  thought  there  was  no  one 
like  Dear  the  wide  world  over. 

"  Is  she  like  what  you  expected  ? "  Ralph  was 
saying  to  Dear.  "  I  have  so  often  described  my 
mother  to  you.  Did  you  fancy  her  like  this  ? 
Why,  Dear,  are  you  cold  ?  " 

For  Dear  gave  a  little  shiver  as  just  at  this 
moment  Mrs.  Maddison  turned  to  look  at  her 
through  those  double  eye-glasses  with  a  long 
tortoiseshell  handle,  which  she  used,  as  she  took 
pains  to  inform  the  public,  because  they  were  so 
much  in  fashion,  and  not  because  her  eyesight 
needed  any  help.  Certainly  those  eye-glasses 
are  very  useful  weapons  of  offence  in  the  hands 
of  cold-blooded  insolence. 

"  Cold  ?  No,  I  don't  think  so,  only  it's  a 
little  bit  dull  and  damp  in  this  orchard  when 
there  is  no  sun.  I  think  there  must  be  what 
they  call  a  blight,  and  it  was  such  a  beautiful 
morning  !" 

There  was  a  wistfulness  and  disquiet  in  the 
girl's  voice  that  struck  even  on  Ralph's  not  very 
discriminating  ear. 


IN   THE   ORCHARD.  1 89 

"  You  don't  much  take  to  the  mater,  Dear. 
There's  not  many  women  that  do  just  at  first, 
but  you  should  see  how  the  men  go  after  her. 
You  can  hardly  get  a  sight  of  her  at  a  ball,  she's 
so  surrounded.  Why,  she  cuts  out  all  the  girls 
as  easy  as  anything,  girls  years  younger  than 
she  is.  Doesn't  she  look  young  ?  Why,  when 
you  were  standing  together  just  now,  you  might 
have  been  sisters.  Meredith  thinks  a  lot  of  her, 
you  can  see  that,  can't  you  ?  and  he  is  not  at 
all  a  sort  of  fellow  for  ladies  in  a  general  way, 
but  the  mater  can  twist  him  round  her  little 
finger." 

And  even  as  he  spoke  the  two  in  front 
stopped,  and  Dear  saw,  as  no  doubt  she  was 
intended  to  see,  Mrs.  Maddison  lay  her  hand 
on  Oliver  Meredith's  arm  with  a  caressing 
gesture,  and  look  up  into  his  face  with  a  very 
different  glance  to  that  bestowed  on  Dear  a  few 
moments  before  through  the  double  eye-glasses. 

"I  think,"  Dear  said  with  a  little  gasp,  "that 
I  will  go  home  through  the  garden.  You  want 
to  be  with  Mrs.  Maddison,  and  it  must  be  tea- 


19°  DEAR. 

time,  and  I  must  see  that  my  father  has  a  quiet 
evening.  He  will  be  tired ;  it  is  such  a  rare 
thing  for  him  to  go  out,  you  know,"  she  added, 
with  a  little  wan  smile ;  "  he  will  have  to  keep 
very  quiet  to  recover  from  such  dissipation.  No, 
don't  trouble  Mrs.  Maddison,"  for  Ralph  was  on 
the  point  of  calling  to  his  mother  to  stop. 
"  She  will  be  tired  with  her  journey  and  glad  to 
be  alone.     Will  you  bid  her  good-bye  for  me  ? " 

And  then  Dear  slipped  away,  along  the  path 
under  the  wall  that  was  sunny  no  longer,  and 
out  through  the  door  into  the  lane,  which  looked 
littered  and  untidy  with  the  passage  of  the 
harvest  waggons ;  and  Dear  noticed  then  for 
the  first  time,  that  there  was  a  patch  of  yellow 
on  the  big  elm  tree  at  the  corner. 

"  Summer  is  over,"  she  said  to  herself  sadly ; 
"and  it  has  been  such  a  beautiful  summer." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

a  woman's  will. 

"  Whene'er  I  see  those  smiling  eyes, 

So  full  of  hope  and  joy  and  light, 
As  if  no  cloud  could  ever  rise 

To  dim  a  heav'n  so  purely  bright, 
I  sigh  to  think  how  soon  that  brow 

In  grief  may  lose  its  every  ray, 
And  that  light  heart  so  joyous  now 

Almost  forget  it  once  was  gay." — Moore. 

TVT  EXT  morning  that  business  letter  of  which 
mention  has  already  been  made,  came  forci- 
bly into  Oliver  Meredith's  mind  directly  he 
awoke,  and  the  importance  of  giving  it  immediate 
attention  was  impressed  upon  him  as  it  had  not 
been,  unfortunately,  the  day  before. 

It  was  unfortunate,  he  felt,  because  it  would 
appear  so  discourteous  to  Mrs.  Maddison  if  he 
left    Kingscombe   directly  she  arrived,  and  the 

(190 


192  DEAR. 

most  important  business  would  only  appear  to 
her  an  empty  excuse,  especially  if  it  came  out 
that  the  letter  about  it  had  arrived  the  day 
before  and  had  received  no  attention. 

The  charm  of  Kingscombe  seemed  somehow 
to  have  gone,  the  view  from  his  window  which 
had  seemed  to  him  so  idyllic  looked  dull  and 
uninteresting  this  morning,  and  for  the  first  time 
he  noticed  a  smell  from  the  farmyard  when  he 
opened  his  window.  The  old-fashioned  quiet  of 
the  house  seemed  transformed  into  mere  deadly 
dullness,  as  Mademoiselle  Clarisse  tripped  along 
on  her  high  heels,  with  little  shrill  exclamations 
of  horror  at  the  tristesse  of  the  great  solid  house. 
He  saw  the  whole  place  with  Mrs.  Maddison's 
eyes  as  he  came  down  to  breakfast,  spread  on 
the  big  mahogany  dining-table,  with  good, 
honest,  farmer-like  Maddison  ancestors  looking 
down  in  solemn,  respectable  stupidity  from  the 
walls. 

She,  however,  did  not  appear  till  two  hours 
later,  when  she  came  down  in  a  most  elegant 
morning  negligee  toilette,  and,  passing  the  dining- 


A   WOMAN'S   WILL.  193 

room  with  a  shudder,  established  herself  in  the 
drawing-room,  which  Clarisse  and  Duncan  had 
been  trying  to  make  habitable,  having  reduced 
the  furniture  to  what  Mrs.  Lynch's  old-fashioned, 
tidy  notions  considered  a  state  of  chaos.  A  fire 
had  been  lighted  too  in  the  big  grate  (con- 
structed artfully  so  that  all  the  heat  should  go 
up  the  chimney),  greatly  to  the  annoyance  of 
the  starlings  who  had  made  their  abode  there ; 
and  this  also  was  a  shock  to  Mrs.  Lynch's 
feelings,  as  she  had  been  brought  up  to  begin 
fires  the  first  of  November,  and  leave  them  off 
the  first  of  May,  so  that  all  the  frosty  May 
mornings  and  penetrating  chill  fogs  of  October 
evenings  of  this  capricious  English  climate,  to 
say  nothing  of  bitter  midsummers,  and  chilblainy 
Augusts,  must  be  endured  as  best  you  might, 
"  for  no  one  ever  heard  tell  of  lighting  up  fires  in 
summer  time." 

But  Mrs.  Lynch  heard  tell  of  a  good   many 
things  new  to  her  at  that   time,  and  lived  in  a 
chronic  state  of   "  Well  a-never  !  "  and  "  Who'd 
a-thought ! " 
13 


194  DEAR. 

I  said  the  charm  seemed  to  have  gone  from 
Kingscombe ;  but  Oliver  Meredith  told  himself 
it  was  only  interrupted,  it  would  all  come  back, 
the  sun  would  shine  again,  and  the  soft  shadows 
lie  on  the  orchard  grass,  and  the  sun  light  up  the 
emerald  moss  on  the  old  trees  and  the  rosy 
fruit  on  the  boughs  above  or  at  their  feet,  and 
he  would  hold  Dear's  hand  in  his  again  and  look 
into  her  eyes,  and  say  those  words  which  had 
been  checked  on  his  very  lips.  It  would  all 
come  back,  it  was  only  deferred,  to  be  all  the 
sweeter  for  waiting.  What  could  ever  come 
between  them  when  once  their  hands  and  eyes 
had  met  like  that  ?  Qr  should  he  take  her  to 
the  old  mill  ?  The  Virginia  creeper  on  the 
gable  end  of  the  house  would  be  turning  to 
scarlet,  the  French  poplars'  shivering  leaves 
would  be  beginning  to  show  some  gold,  the  old 
miller  must  have  looked  many  times  up  the 
stream  and  wondered  if  his  visitors  would  come 
again,  the  old  wife  must  have  finished  half  a 
dozen  gray  stockings  with  her  shining,  clicking, 
needles.     He  could  see  it  all, — whirr  !  the  white 


A   WOMAN'S    WILL.  195 

pigeons  flew  up  to  the  mill  roof  as  the  boat 
with  him  and  Dear  came  to  the  landing- 
steps — 

"  You  were  saying — ?"  Mrs.  Maddison  was 
looking  at  him  with  one  of  her  sweetest  smiles, 
in  as  elegant  an  attitude  as  that  uncompromising 
armchair  would  allow,  and  holding  up  a  large 
feather  fan  to  shield  her  face  from  the  glow  of 
the  fire.     "  You  were  saying —  ?  " 

What  had  he  been  saying  ?  Surely  Oliver 
Meredith  needed  a  screen  too,  for  the  fire  had 
caught  his  face  and  turned  it  crimson  and 
burning. 

"Excuse  me  !  "  he  said.  "I  was  speaking  of 
that  letter  I  had  received  from  Mr. —  " 

"Yes?  Tell  me  about  it.  I  thought  you 
were  speaking  just  then  of  Ralph,  but  I  am  so 
absent-minded  no  doubt  I  was  mistaken." 

There  was  a  fly  which  had  settled  for  a 
moment  on  the  dainty  lace  and  cashmere  of 
Mrs.  Maddison's  sleeve,  and  her  eyes,  as  they 
left  Oliver's  face,  sank  on  this  unoffending  insect, 
and  I  wonder  it  ever  lived  to  tell  the  tale  or  join 


'96  DEAR. 

the  mazy  dance  with  its  fellows  round  the 
chandelier,  so  scorching  was  the  wrathful  blaze 
of  the  steel-blue  lightning  that  flashed  down 
on  it. 

"You  see,"  he  hastened  clumsily  to  excuse 
himself,  "  my  mind  is  a  good  deal  occupied  with 
this  letter,  which  I  am  afraid  may  call  me  away. 
If  you  had  not  come  I  should  have  written  to 
you  about  it  to-day." 

She  bent  towards  him  with  that  graceful 
interest  which  not  so  long  ago  had  been  so 
delightful  to  him,  which  had  encouraged  him 
to  pour  out  confidences  to  her,  sure  of  her 
sympathy,  even  if  she  did  not  always  enter  into 
his  feelings  ;  but  by  the  side  of  the  sympathy  to 
which  he  had  lately  been  growing  used,  Mrs. 
Maddison's  rang  false  and  unreal,  and  he  dis- 
trusted the  earnest  attention  of  her  eyes,  and 
could  hardly  keep  himself  from  shrinking  from 
the  touch  of  her  hand  upon  his  arm. 

Those  tortoise-shell  eye-glasses  were  required 
by  Mrs.  Maddison  for  something  more  than 
ornament,  but  without  them  she  could  see  clearly 


A   WOMAN'S   WILL.  197 

enough  the  doubt  of  her  in  Oliver's  face  and  the 
involuntary  recoil  from  her  touch. 

"  It  came  this  morning  ?  "  she  asked.  And  in 
times  past  he  would  not  have  hesitated  to  answer 
"Yes"  on  the  principle  that  verbal  truth  may- 
be sacrificed  when  inconvenient  or  impertinent 
questions  are  asked,  but  if  you  are  constantly  in 
the  company  of  an  absolutely  true  person  you 
cease  to  draw  fine  distinctions  between  truth 
and  falsehood. 

"  No,  it  came  yesterday,  but  I  hardly  realised 
its  importance  till  I  read  it  through  again  this 
morning." 

A  very  slight  raising  of  the  delicately-pencilled 
eyebrows  showed  him  that  she  was  taking  the 
matter  just  as  he  had  anticipated  she  would, 
and  with  a  man's  clumsiness  he  proceeded  to 
make  matters  worse. 

"  You  see  I  have  been  wasting  my  time  so 
much  the  last  few  weeks.  I  shall  have  to  buckle 
too  now  to  make  up  for  lost  time." 

A  little  sharpening  of  the  lines  round  Mrs. 
Maddison's  mouth  might  have  warned  him  that 


I98  DEAR. 

his  words  were  not  acceptable,  but  he  was  just 
then  filled  with  a  rush  of  regret  for  the  holiday 
time  that  was  over,  and  the  sunshine  of  those 
idle  summer  days  was  dazzling  in  his  eyes  as  he 
went  blundering  on. 

"This  is  such  an  ideal  place  to  be  idle 
in." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "but  I  think  when  you  first 
came  you  used  that  very  expression  about  it  as 
a  place  for  work.  I  would  never  have  consented 
to  your  burying  yourself  all  this  time  down  here 
if  I  had  not  thought  that  the  quiet  was  just 
what  you  wanted  for  your  work.  I  would  not 
have  asked  so  great  a  sacrifice  of  you,  Oliver — 
nor  of  myself,"  she  added  in  a  soft  voice,  and 
with  a  look  meant  to  tell  what  that  separation 
had  been  to  her  ;  but  he  was  looking  at  the  scar 
on  his  hand  which  Dear  had  doctored  so  tenderly 
and  missed  the  look  and  perhaps  the  softly 
added  words. 

"  It  was  no  sacrifice,"  he  said,  and  she  inter- 
rupted him  with  a  playful,  little  tap  of  the 
feather  fan  on  the  lips  that  assuredly  were  not 


A   WOMAN'S    WILL.  199 

going  to  say  anything  outrageously  compli- 
mentary. 

"  What  flatterers  you  men  are  !  I  know  what 
you  are  going  to  say,  that  it  was  no  sacrifice 
because  it  was  done  for — Ralph,  was  that  it? 
And  I  must  not  even  be  grateful,  must  I  ? 
not  even  thank  you,  nor  tell  you  how  much  I 
appreciate  these  three  months'  banishment  of 
yours  ?  " 

There  was  a  glove  of  Dear's,  left  behind  the 
day  before,  lying  on  the  table  near  where  Oliver 
sat — a  small,  shabby,  wash-leather  glove,  such  an 
one  as  Mrs.  Maddison  would  not  have  worn  even 
in  the  most  rustic  seclusion,  and  I  am  free  to 
confess  it  was  not  ornamental,  being  stained  and 
discolored  and  stretched  and  worn  into  a  hole 
at  the  thumb  ;  but  he  took  it  up  and  smoothed  it 
out  with  a  tenderness  not  lost  on  Mrs.  Maddison, 
and  the  touch  of  it  seemed  to  act  like  a  charm 
to  take  all  the  fascination  out  of  "  my  lady's  " 
soft  words  and  tender  glances,  and  to  keep 
Oliver  from  falling' back  into  the  bondage  that 
had  been  so  pleasant  to  him  in  old  days. 


200  DEAR. 

"  It  is  I,"  he  said,  "  that  am  indebted  to  you 
for  perhaps  the  pleasantest  summer  of  my 
life." 

Dr.  Meredith  had  never  been  great  at  com- 
pliment, but  the  impoliteness  of  that  last  speech 
approached  the  brutal,  and  he  felt  it  himself  as 
soon  as  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth. 

"  You  see,"  he  added,  "it  has  been  such 
exceptionally  fine  weather,  and  this  is  such  a 
lovely  place,  and — " 

"  And  so  the  work  got  set  aside,  and  all  the 
time  that  I,  poor  I,  was  flattering  myself  that  I 
was  conferring  a  benefit  on  society  at  large,  by 
giving  you  an  opportunity  to  write  your  book 
undisturbed  by  the  distractions  of  London,  you 
were — merely  finding  Kingscombe  an  ideal  place 
for  being  idle  in.  For  shame,  Dr.  Meredith ! 
May  I  ask  what  mischief  has  been  found  for 
your  idle  hands  to  do  which  I  fondly  believed 
so  well  employed  ? " 

He  was  not  good  at  badinage,  he  never  had 
been,  he  had  no  repartee,  and  he  was  uncomfort- 
ably conscious  that  every  now  and  then  among 


A   WOMAN'S   WILL.  201 

the  roses  with  which  she  pelted  him  there  was  a 
thorn  of  malice,  and  that  the  soft  velvet  paw 
concealed  claws  which  might  give  an  ugly- 
scratch.  She  had  not  often  treated  him  in  this 
way,  but  at  times  he  had  seen  some  presuming 
youngster  so  daintily  and  prettily  put  to  torture 
that  it  was  only  by  the  visible  signs  of  discom- 
fiture, the  scarlet  ears  and  stammering  tongue, 
and  restless  hands  and  deprecating  eyes  and 
final  precipitate  retreat,  that  any  one  would  have 
known  that  she  was  not  showing  her  victim 
special  honor. 

"  And  this  very  important  business  that  dis- 
tracts your  mind  from  my  very  frivolous  con- 
versation. May  I  hear  what  it  is  ?  The  letter 
came  yesterday,  you  say,  and  must  have  absorbed 
every  thought.  Indeed,  I  fancied  when  I  came 
upon  you  in  the  orchard  that  dull  care  was 
pressing  heavily  upon  you,  you  looked  wrapt  in 
thought.  Would  you  kindly  pull  down  the 
blind  if  there  is  one  to  that  dreadful  window, 
the  glare  is  intolerable." 

But    what    was     really   intolerable    was     that 


202  DEAR. 

caressing,  smoothing  of  that  impossible  glove, 
the  sort  of  thing  housemaids  wear  to  black 
grates  in,  dirty  enough  for  that  too  and  shape- 
less, and  yet  that  man  sat  up  fondling  it  with 
that  inane  smile  as  if  he  were  going  to  kiss  it 
next  moment  ;  it  was  sickening. 

And  when  Oliver,  after  much  fumbling,  had 
managed  to  pull  down  the  blind,  which  after 
resisting  his  most  strenuous  pulls  to  begin  with, 
suddenly  gave  in  and  came  down  with  a  run  to 
its  whole  yellow  and  weather-stained  length — 
when  this  was  done  and  he  returned  to  his  place 
and  felt  mechanically  for  the  glove  which  had 
seemed  a  talisman  of  truth  and  purity  in  the 
atmosphere  of  unreality  and  pretence,  it  was 
gone,  and  "  my  lady  "  was  dusting  the  dainty 
tips  of  her  fingers  with  her  cobweb  handkerchief 
as  if  they  had  been  in  contact  with  something 
unpleasant. 

But  greatly  to  his  relief  her  mood  had  changed, 
and  she  dropped  the  bantering  tone. 

"  Oliver,"  she  said,  "  of  course  if  this  business 
is  really  important,  I  should  be  the  last  to  wish 


A   WOMAN'S  WILL.  203 

you  to  neglect  it  on  my  account.  We  are 
too  old  friends  for  me  to  think  for  a  minute  of 
my  own  disappointment  at  your  having  to  run 
away  directly  I  arrive." 

"  You  know,"  he  protested,  and  I  really  believe 
the  loss  of  that  glove  made  him  more  defence- 
less— for  one  thing  he  could  not  help  looking 
at  her,  and  no  one  can  deny  that  Mrs.  Maddi- 
son's  eyes  are  very  lovely —  "  You  know  that  I 
would  much  rather  stay,  but  it  concerns  my 
future  prospects  so  nearly  that  I  hardly  feel 
justified  in  putting  it  aside  even  for —  " 

"  Me  ?  "  she  ended  softly.  Their  eyes  had 
met  now,  and  how  could  he  end  as  he  might 
have  done  if  Dear's  glove  had  been  in  his  hand, 
"  even  for  politeness  to  you." 

"  I    think    I    told    you    something    about    it 

before,"   he  went   on.     "It  is  Professor  K , 

who  is  carrying  out  some  very  interesting 
scientific  experiments  at  Berlin,  and  has  done 
me  the  great  honor  of  proposing  that  I  should 
go  out  and  work  with  him.  He  has  read  an 
article    of    mine    bearing   on    the   subject,    and 


204  DEAR. 

thinks  I  can  be  of  use  to  him.  There  is  a 
handsome  salary  for  the  two  years  during  which 
the  experiments  will  last,  and  this  is,  of  course, 
of  importance  to  a  poor  man  as  I  am  ;  but 
besides  this,  it  will  be  such  an  introduction  in 
the  scientific  world  as  will  be  greatly  to  my 
future  advantage,  and  is  a  chance  that  only 
occurs  once  in  a  lifetime." 

Mrs.  Maddison  had  been  listening  with  that 
engrossed  air  of  interest  that  made  her  so  de- 
lightful a  companion ;  but  on  this  occasion  it 
was  not  assumed,  for  in  her  own  mind  she  was 
weighing  the  pros  and  cons  of  those  two  years 
at  fierlin.  As  far  as  the  salary  went,  it  was  not 
worth  thinking  of,  her  husband  would  have  no 
need  to  trouble  about  such  a  trifle  ;  but  if  it 
led,  as  he  said,  to  distinction,  it  would  be  worth 
the  sacrifice,  for  Berlin  was,  in  her  opinion,  a 
hideously  dull  place,  and  Germans  she  loathed 
with  a  good  honest  abhorrence  of  all  their  unin- 
teresting varieties  ;  from  the  hausfran,  ill-dressed 
and  clumsy  and  subservient  to  the  superior  sex, 
to  the  sensible,  coarse,   money-making  German, 


A   WOMAN'S   WILL.  205 

or  the  heavily  intellectual  or  the  enthusiastically 
artistic, — all  she  equally  detested. 

But  still  even  two  years  in  Berlin  might  be 
made  endurable,  and  a  vision  of  agreeable 
attaches  and  handsome  Prussian  officers  served 
to  throw  a  little  color  into  the  otherwise 
gloomy  picture. 

There  was  a  little  pause  after  Oliver  ceased 
speaking,  while  Mrs.  Maddison's  thoughts  ran  on 
and  pictured  herself  the  centre  of  an  amusing 
and  brillant  circle,  while  her  husband's  reputa- 
tion was  growing  and  becoming  known  in  all 
the  capitals  of  Europe. 

And  he  too  was  thinking  of  two  years  at  Ber- 
lin, and  of  a  modest  flat  which  that  salary  would 
make  comfortable  if  not  luxurious,  and  of  a  wife 
whose  sympathy  would  follow  him  into  all  his 
studies,  and  whose  pure,  sweet,  innocent  appre- 
ciation would  make  life  full  of  beauty  and 
interest.  He  was  a  slower  painter  of  mind 
pictures  than  she  was,  or  else  he  loved  to  dwell 
on  each  delicate,  little  touch  that  brought  out 
the  harmonious  whole,  for  hers  was  finished  with 


206  DEAR. 

a  glitter  of  gems  and  diplomatic  orders  and 
Prussian  uniforms,  a  very  brilliant  piece  of  work, 
I  can  assure  you,  and  she  was  speaking  again 
before  he  had  got  his  canvas  half  filled  in. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "you  must  not  let  the  oppor- 
tunity slip.  Is  it  too  late  to  go  to-day  ?  Am  I 
not  good  to  let  you  go  and  leave  me  in  this 
forsaken  place  ?  But  you  will  come  back,  will 
you  not,  Oliver?  It  will  be  only  for  a  few 
days,  and  then  you  will  come  back  ? " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  will  come  back,"  he  answered, 
and  there  was  a  fervor  in  his  tone  which  was 
gratifying. 

"To  me,"  she  told  herself. 

"To  Dear,"  he  told  himself. 

But  it  was  so  great  a  comfort  to  him  to  find 
his  way  made  easy,  that  he  could  not  help  feel- 
ing grateful  to  Mrs.  Maddison  for  having  made 
it  so  ;  and  when  she  went  on  to  speak  in  praise 
of  Dear  without  the  patronising  sneer  of  the  day 
before,  Oliver  confessed  to  himself  that  there  was 
a  great  charm  about  Mrs.  Maddison,  and  that  he 
should  be  very  sorry  to  lose  her  friendship  ;  and 


A   WOMAN'S   WILL.  207 

when  she  finished  up  by  asking  if  he  would  go 
and  beg  Miss  Hume  to  come  up  and  have  tea 
with  her  that  afternoon,  he  could  have  kissed 
her  hand  with  the  greatest  pleasure,  as  she 
seemed  to  be  giving  him  an  opportunity  of  finish- 
ing that  explanation  with  Dear  which  her  sud- 
den appearance  had  interrupted  the  previous 
afternoon. 

He  might  have  felt  less  grateful  to  her  if  he 
had  known  that  Mrs.  Maddison  had  already 
despatched  Ralph  to  the  Vicarage,  so  she  knew 
that  Oliver  would  not  find  Dear  alone  ;  and 
that  the  moment  he  was  out  of  the  room,  the 
languid  grace  and  smiling  serenity  of  her  man- 
ner changed,  as  she  snatched  a  little  worn  glove 
from  where  it  lay  hid  under  a  fold  of  her  dress 
and  tore  at  it  with  an  energy  you  would  hardly 
have  credited  her  with.  Duncan,  coming  into 
the  room  a  moment  later,  stood  looking  in 
surprise  at  the  unaccustomed  sight  of  "  my  lady" 
with  the  poker  in  her  hand — and  such  a  poker 
too,  not  one  of  those  fairy-like  polished  steel 
and  brass  implements,  such  as  was  to  be  found 


208  DEAR. 

in  the  Mayfair  rooms,  but  a  good,  honest,  heavy, 
old-fashioned  poker,  in  keeping  with  the  house 
and  its  furniture — and  with  this.  Mrs.  Maddison 
was  ramming  something  down  into  the  hot 
coals,  but  what  it  was  he  could  not  see. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

AWAY    FROM    DEAR. 

"  Whatever  in  fame's  high  path  could  waken 
My  spirit  once,  is  now  forsaken 
For  thee,  thee,  only  thee. 
Like  shores  by  which  some  headlong  bark 

To  the  ocean  hurries,  resting  never, 
Life's  scenes  go  by  me,  bright  or  dark 
I  know  not,  heed  not,  hastening  ever 
To  thee,  thee,  only  thee." — Moore. 

A  ND  so  Oliver  Meredith  went  away  from 
Kingscombe  that  afternoon,  and  the  fates 
that  had  been  so  kind  to  him  the  day  before,  in 
the  matter  of  allowing  tete-a-tete  interviews  with 
Dear,  seemed  to  have  turned  crusty,  for  he  only 
saw  her  for  a  few  minutes  just  as  he  was  start- 
ing, and  then  in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Maddison, 
Ralph  and  Clive,  with  Mdlle.  Clarisse  fluttering 
in  the  background,  and  Duncan  coming  fussing 
14  (209) 


210  DEAR. 

with  the  key  of  his  portmanteau  and  inquiries 
as  to  his  wishes  about  a  hatbox. 

He  had  no  opportunity  for  a  single  word,  he 
could  not  hold  her  hand  a  second  longer  than 
usual  as  he  bade  her  good-bye,  he  could  not 
even  look  at  her  without  his  glance  being  inter- 
cepted either  by  Ralph's  long  limbs,  that  seemed 
all  over  the  place,  or  Mrs.  Maddison's  feather 
fan,  that  seemed  somehow  to  have  the  art,  in 
its  graceful  movement,  of  drawing  attention 
however  unwillingly  from  every  one  else,  and 
concentrating  it  on  herself.  And  Dear's  eyes 
never  once  met  his  ;  they  were  fixed  for  the 
most  part  on  some  flowers  lying  on  the  table, 
which  Mrs.  Maddison  had  gathered  in  the 
garden,  in  a  short  turn  which  she  took  with 
Oliver  after  lunch.  They  were  picked  with 
that  want  of  consideration  which  marks  people 
who  do  not  really  care  for  flowers,  one  rose 
broken  off  with  a  long  strip  of  bark  torn  from 
the  tender  stem,  another  with  half  a  dozen 
young  buds,  too  young  to  be  pretty,  and  with 
none  of  its   own  leaves   to   give  the  flower  its 


AWAY   FROM   DEAR.  211 

right  complement  of  green,  a  piece  of  fuchsia 
broken  off  the  central  shoot,  and  spoiling  the 
shape  of  the  plant  for  good  and  all,  some 
mignonette  pulled  up  by  the  roots,  and  all  left 
on  the  table  to  grow  limp  and  withered  in  the 
afternoon  sun. 

Oliver  himself,  who  had  learnt  of  late  gentler 
treatment,  could  hardly  restrain  an  expostulation 
as  he  watched  "  my  lady  "  gather  them,  and  he 
could  guess  the  feeling  in  Dear's  heart  as  she 
looked  at  them,  the  pity  as  for  some  living  thing 
that  could  feel  and  suffer. 

She  was  pale,  he  thought,  but  there  was  never 
much  color  on  the  white  skin  ;  she  was  silent, 
but  she  never  was  a  very  great  talker.  Was 
her  mouth  always  so  grave  ?  he  wondered,  or 
was  it  only  that  it  struck  him  more  as  brought 
in  contrast  with  Mrs.  Maddison's  dimpling 
smiles  ? 

She  had  been  out  when  he  went  in  the 
morning  with  Mrs.  Maddison's  message,  as 
perhaps  "  my  lady  "  knew  would  be  the  case, 
and  she  only  came  to  the  Manor  a  few  minutes 


212  DEAR. 

before  the  fly  arrived  to  take  Oliver  and  his 
belongings  to  Cheriton  to  catch  the  night  mail. 

He  was  up  in  his  room,  packing  his  port- 
manteau when  she  came  ;  and  when  he  went 
down,  she  was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room 
watching  those  withering  flowers. 

"  I  was  telling  Miss  Hume,  Oliver,"  Mrs. 
Maddison  said,  and  he  felt  a  little  prick,  like  the 
sting  of  a  gnat,  every  time  she  said  his  Christian 
name  before  Dear,  with  that  soft  inflection  of 
the  voice  on  the  word  that  was  almost  a  caress. 
When  had  she  begun  to  call  him  by  his  Christian 
name  ?  He  could  not  remember,  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  it  used  not  to  be  so  continual 
before  this.  "  I  was  telling  Miss  Hume,  Oliver, 
that  you  are  going  to  run  away  from  us  this 
afternoon.  I  had  to  explain  to  her  that  it  was 
not  exactly  my  coming  that  had  scared  you 
away,  but  important  business — for  it  does  look 
suspicious,  doesn't  it  ?  that  he  should  go  the 
very  first  day  I  am  here." 

And  then  she  gathered  Oliver's  attention  to 
herself  with  that   prettily-imperious  wave  of  the 


AWAY   FROM   DEAR.  21 3 

fan,  and  shut  out  the  others,  and  her  voice  grew 
confidential. 

"  You  will  write  to  me  directly  you  have  seen 

Professor  K ,  won't  you,  Oliver  ?     You  know 

how  anxious  I  shall  be  to  hear  the  result." 
And  so  on,  and  all  the  time  he  was  listening 
with  Dear's  ears,  and  feeling  how  it  must  give 
her  the  impression  of  the  great  intimacy  and 
confidence  existing  between  him  and  Mrs. 
Maddison. 

And  then  it  was  time  to  go,  and  he  held  Dear's 
hand  in  his  for  a  second  ;  it  was  cold  and  a  little 
tremulous,  he  fancied,  but  how  can  you  judge 
of  the  feel  of  a  hand  in  such  a  momentary 
clasp  ? 

It  brought  back  to  his  mind  the  remembrance 
of  that  little  glove  he  had  been  holding  in  the 
morning,  and  a  sudden,  ridiculous  wish  seized 
him  to  have  it  to  carry  away  with  him.  He 
had  absolutely  nothing  of  Dear's,  not  a  photo- 
graph or  flower  or  ribbon,  not  a  scrap  even  of 
her  handwriting.  It  is  easy  enough  to  make 
fun  of  such  sentimental  nonsense,  but  the  most 


212  DEAR. 

before  the  fly  arrived  to  take  Oliver  and  his 
belongings  to  Cheriton  to  catch  the  night  mail. 

He  was  up  in  his  room,  packing  his  port- 
manteau when  she  came  ;  and  when  he  went 
down,  she  was  sitting  in  the  drawing-room 
watching  those  withering  flowers. 

"  I  was  telling  Miss  Hume,  Oliver,"  Mrs. 
Maddison  said,  and  he  felt  a  little  prick,  like  the 
sting  of  a  gnat,  every  time  she  said  his  Christian 
name  before  Dear,  with  that  soft  inflection  of 
the  voice  on  the  word  that  was  almost  a  caress. 
When  had  she  begun  to  call  him  by  his  Christian 
name  ?  He  could  not  remember,  but  it  seemed 
to  him  that  it  used  not  to  be  so  continual 
before  this.  "  I  was  telling  Miss  Hume,  Oliver, 
that  you  are  going  to  run  away  from  us  this 
afternoon.  I  had  to  explain  to  her  that  it  was 
not  exactly  my  coming  that  had  scared  you 
away,  but  important  business — for  it  does  look 
suspicious,  doesn't  it  ?  that  he  should  go  the 
very  first  day  I  am  here." 

And  then  she  gathered  Oliver's  attention  to 
herself  with  that   prettily-imperious  wave  of  the 


AWAY   FROM   DEAR.  21 5 

unprotected  standing  there,  though  Ralph  was 
close  beside  her,  all  his  six  feet  two  of  height, 
and  with  one  elbow  leaning  against  the  door- 
post above  her  head,  in  an  attitude  suggestive 
of  protection,  a  long-limbed  guardian  angel  in 
tweed. 

It  comforted  Oliver  much  more  to  think  of 
Dan's  not  very  amiable  face  and  tan  ears  on  her 
other  side,  and,  just  as  the  turn  in  the  drive 
came  and  shut  out  the  view  of  the  group  still 
standing  on  the  portico  steps,  he  saw  Dan  caught 
up  in  Dear's  arms,  and  her  lips — could  it  have 
been  to  hide  their  quivering  ? — pressed  on  the 
dog's  head. 

"  Dan  will  protect  her,"  he  thought,  as  if 
there  were  dangers  threatening  the  girl  in  those 
few  days  during  which  he  would  be  away,  and 
then  he  laughed  at  himself  for  this  absurd 
feeling  of  apprehension.  What  should  befall 
her  with  Ralph  sworn  to  her  service,  and  e.very 
man,  woman,  and  child,  ay  !  and  beast  too, 
in  Kingscombe  her  devoted  lieges  ?  Even 
Mrs.   Maddison  had  spoken   kindly  of  her  that 


2IO  DEAR. 

morning,  and  had  expressed  a  wish  for  her 
company. 

It  was  all  so  bright  and  sunny  as  he  drove 
away ;  the  weather  had  not  proved  too  bright  to 
last,  as  Mrs.  Lynch  had  prophesied,  and  summer 
showed  no  signs  of  being  over  as  Dear  had 
sadly  told  herself ;  and  Kingscombe  looked  its- 
fairest  and  most  peaceful  in  the  afternoon 
radiance.  There  was  no  thunder-cloud  hanging 
over  the  place,  no  smell  of  pestilence  in  the 
sweet  air,  no  sign  of  those  green  hills  or  gray 
rocks  preparing  to  hurl  themselves  down  on  the 
little  village  nestling  below,  and  yet  Oliver  once 
laid  his  hand  on  the  check-string  to  bid  the 
driver  turn  back,  for  he  must  see  Dear  again, 
even  at  the  risk  of  losing  his  train.  But  when 
the  man  turned  round  to  see  what  his  fare 
wanted,  common  sense  re-asserted  itself,  and  he 
bade  the  man  drive  on  and  look  alive,  as  there 
was  no  time  to  be  lost. 

He  felt  this  unreasonable  fear  less  acutely  as 
the  days  passed  on,  for  the  few  days  he  had 
agreed  with  Mrs.  Maddison  as  the  time  of  his 


AWAY   FROM   DEAR.  2\J 

absence  lengthened  into  weeks.  Business  looks 
very  different  when  you  are  in  the  midst  of  its 
hurry  and  bustle  in  London,  to  what  it  does  as 
seen  from  afar  in  the  peaceful  atmosphere  of 
Kingscombe.  He  found  many  arrears  of  busi- 
ness to  be  attended  to,  letters  to  be  answered, 
interviews  to  be  effected,  publishers  to  be  molli- 
fied, friends  who  could  not  be  put  off,  or  made 
short  work  of ;  and  above  all,  he  found  that  the 
delay  in  answering  that  letter,  which  had  been 
forwarded  to  him  from  London,  and  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  he  had  not  attended  to  immediately 
on  receiving  it,  had  made  it  necessary  for  him 
to  go  to  Berlin,  to  see  the  Professor  himself. 

He  did  not  mind  the  journey,  except  in  so  far 
as  it  delayed  his  return  to  Kingscombe ;  he  had 
often  made  it  before ;  but  every  incident  in  it 
came  fresh  and  interesting,  as  he  imagined  how 
it  would  strike  on  a  mind  that  had  never  since 
babyhood  been  ten  miles  from  Kingscombe,  and 
yet  was  in  no  way  narrowed  or  cramped,  but 
was  eager  and  open,  and  appreciative  of  new 
impressions. 


2l8  DEAR 

Berlin  had  never  appeared  to  him  so  beautiful ; 
he  was  never  tired  of  Unter  den  Linden,  with  the 
thought  of  how  Dear  would  like  it ;  he  looked  in 
at  the  Grand  Opera,  and  half  envied  the  solemn, 
stout,  spectacled  Germans,  because  so  many  had 
their  stolid,  little  wives  tucked  under  their  arms, 
and  yet  more  than  half  pitied  them,  because 
those  wives  were  so  unlike  Dear. 

He  was  amused  and  inwardly  pleased  at  the 
Professor  being  disappointed  at  his  youthful 
appearance  ;  he  felt  so  much  younger  inwardly 
that  it  was  pleasing  to  know  that  it  showed  out- 
wardly also,  even  though  it  imperilled  his  pros- 
pects with  the  serious,  old  Professor.  He  found 
it  difficult  to  subdue  his  manner  into  befitting 
gravity,  he  who  in  the  early  days  at  Kingscombe 
had  felt  so  old  and  grave,  and  the  Professor  at 
one  time  felt  serious  doubts  of  the  identity  of 
this  frivolous  boy  with  the  writer  of  that  thought- 
ful treatise  which  had  so  impressed  him. 

What  would  the  old  Vicar  do  without  Dear  ? 
That  was  the  only  misgiving  that  beset  him  in 
his  sunny  dreams  of  the  future.     Her  father  was 


AWAY   FROM  DEAR.  219 

so  dependent  on  her;  Oliver  remembered  one 
evening  coming  into  the  vicarage  and  finding 
the  little  Vicar  sleeping,  after  a  very  tiring  day 
of  harassing  work.  He  had  fallen  asleep  with  his 
head  against  Dear's  shoulder  as  she  sat,  in  a  not 
very  comfortable  position,  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair.  She  must  have  been  cramped,  and  weary 
of  the  constrained  attitude,  but  she  would  not 
move  as  long  as  the  tired,  old  head,  with  its  thin 
gray  hair,  rested  against  her,  and  she  held  up  a 
finger  entreating  silence,  as  he  came  in.  He 
had  very  quietly  taken  his  seat  just  behind  them, 
and  had  sat  there  in  silence  for  an  hour  of  soft 
deepening  twilight.  This  was  one  of  his 
treasured  memories  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  Dear, 
silent  to  be  sure,  though  sometimes  he  thought 
that  silence  was  more  full  of  sympathy  than 
words. 

But  against  whose  shoulder  would  the  gray 
head  rest  when  Dear  was  gone  ?  That  troubled 
him  even  in  his  brightest  anticipations.  For 
Clive  the  matter  was  easily  settled.  He  must 
go  to  Cambridge,  that  must  be  managed,  how- 


220  DEAR. 

ever  small  the  income,  and  he  knew  how 
gladly,  eagerly,  Dear  would-  economize  to  effect 
this. 

He  wrote  several  times  to  Mrs.  Maddison, 
and  heard  two  or  three  times  in  reply,  letters 
which  he  tore  open  with  a  passionate  anxiety 
which  would  have  gratified  that  lady  if  she 
could  have  seen  it,  and  if  she  could  have 
avoided  seeing  also  the  disappointment  with 
which  the  eagerly-welcomed  letter  was  tossed 
aside  when  it  was  found  to  contain  no  news  of 
Dear. 

Mrs.  Maddison  took  this  prolonged  absence 
very  reasonably,  indeed  he  almost  fancied  she 
was  glad  he  could  not  return  on  the  day  first 
named.  She  wrote  a  good  deal  more  about  his 
affairs  than  her  own,  but  then,  as  she  always 
ended,  "  there  is  so  little  ever  happens  at  Kings- 
combe,  as  you  know  by  experience." 

He  wondered  at  her  stopping  there  so  long ; 
he  knew  she  had  other  plans  for  the  autumn, 
and  he  could  not  believe  that  she  could  find  the 
same  fascination  as  he  had.     He  tried  to  imagine 


AWAY   FROM   DEAR.  221 

how  she  passed  her  days.  That  first  day  had 
seemed  to  pass  heavily  enough  ;  she  had  com- 
plained more  than  once  of  ennui  before  she  had 
been  there  twenty-four  hours,  and  she  had  told 
him  that  when  he  was  gone  it  would  be  quite 
insupportable,  and  yet  three  weeks  had  passed 
and  she  had  said  not  a  word  of  a  move.  He 
wished  she  would  leave ;  he  had  left  many  of 
his  belongings  there,  so  he  would  have  sufficient 
excuse  for  going  back,  and  without  Mrs.  Mad- 
dison  or  Ralph,  who,  no  doubt,  would  go  with 
his  mother,  there  would  be  no  one  to  come 
between  him  and  Dear. 

Though  September  was  half  over,  the  weather 
was  still  supporting  its  reputation  of  being  ex- 
ceptionally fine ;  the  sun  was  still  warm  and 
genial,  the  river  would  still  look  like  fairy-land 
as  their  boat  floated  down,  and  there  would  be 
autumn  tints  on  trees  and  coverts  to  give  novelty 
to  what  was  lovely  enough  before  ;  the  orchard 
would  still  be  chequered  with  golden  light  and 
soft  ashen  shadows,  and  if  a  yellow  leaf  fluttered 
down  to  remind  them  that  summer  was  over,  he 


222  DEAR. 

would  look  into  Dear's  eyes,  and  find  ever- 
lasting spring. 

But  Mrs.  Maddison  seemed  settled  at  Kings- 
combe,  so  he  must  reckon  on  her  presence  there, 
and  Ralph  too,  on  his  return,  unless  indeed  dur- 
ing the  few  last  days  of  his  stay  in  Berlin,  in  the 
course  of  which  no  letters  had  reached  him,  the 
dullness  of  Kingscombe  had  become  intolerable, 
and  she  had  made  up  her  mind  to  strike  her 
tents. 

At  last  his  business  was  settled,  and  he 
was  free  to  return  to  England.  The  Professor 
had  gathered  from  one  or  two  hints  let  fall  in 
conversation,  that  when  Dr.  Meredith  came 
to  Berlin  at  Christmas,  he  would  not  come 
alone,  and  had  gravely  approved  of  the  pro- 
spect of  the  lady  wife,  having  an  extremely 
stout,  old  wife  of  his  own,  worth  her  weight  in 
gold,  which  is  saying  a  great  deal. 

One  day  in  London  would  be  enough,  he 
decided,  to  see  his  publishers  and  pick  up  his 
letters,  and  the  next  morning  he  would  start  for 
Kingscombe    to  go  to  Dear.     But  as  he  came 


AWAY  FROM   DEAR.  223 

out  of  his  publisher's  office,  he  ran  up  against 
the  very  last  person  he  expected  to  see  in 
London,  who  also  seemed  as  much  astonished 
at  seeing  him  there — it  was  the  invaluable 
Duncan. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

WEDDING    BELLS. 

"...  Deep  as  love, 
Deep  as  first  love,  and  wild  with  all  regret ; 
O  Death  in  Life  !  the  days  that  are  no  more." 
I  — Tennyson. 

"  T  S  Mrs.  Maddison  in  London  ?  Have  they 
left  Kingscombe  ? " 

"How  is  Mr.  Ralph  ?  Have  you  just  come 
up  from  Kingscombe  ?  " 

Duncan's  usually  imperturbably  respectful 
manner  was  quite  upset  by  his  surprise  at 
seeing  Dr.  Meredith,  and  he  stood  staring  at 
him  as  if  he  could  hardly  believe  his  senses  ! 

"  I  understood  my  lady  to  say,"  he  said,  "that 
you  was  back  at  Kingscombe  more  than  a  fort- 
night ago.  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,  for,  of  course, 
it's  my  mistake  ;  but  I  was  just  thinking  of  you 
(224) 


WEDDING-BELLS.  225 

and  Mr.  Ralph,  and  hoping  I'd  find  him  pretty 
middling  when  I  got  back  to-morrow,  for  I  didn't 
like  the  look  of  him  when  I  left.  He  was  very 
queer,  though  he  wouldn't  own  to  it,  and  at  the 
last  moment  I'd  two  minds  about  going,  only 
my  lady  said  that  you  was  sure  to  come  back 
next  day,  and  if  Mr.  Ralph  was  poorly,  which 
she  couldn't  see  any  signs  of,  she  said,  and  that 
it  was  all  my  fancy,  but  anyhow  if  he  was,  you'd 
be  there  to  look  after  him,  and  they'd  let  me 
know  if  I  was  wanted.  I  didn't  at  all  particularly 
care  for  a  holiday  just  now,  as  Kingscombe  suits 
me  and  I've  took  a  liking  to  the  place,  and  I'd 
a  deal  rather  have  had  it  later  when  my  lady 
was  back  in  London,  and  Donaldson  could  valet 
Mr.  Ralph  a  bit,  and  my  folks  was  home  from 
Scotland." 

"  There  was  no  talk  of  your  having  a  holiday 
when  I  left,  Duncan." 

"  No,  nor  it  never  crossed  my  mind,  least  of 

all  when    my  lady  had    just    come    and    wanted 

things    made    comfortable,     and    Mrs.     Lynch 

nervous    about   not    having   things  as   my  lady 

IS 


226  DEAR. 

was  used  to,  and  wanting  me  to  tell  her  every 
little  thing,  even  down  to  how  she  liked  her 
melted, butter  done." 

Duncan's  face  relapsed  into  a  smile  at  the 
remembrance  of  Mrs.  Lynch's  nervous  depen- 
dence, but  it  soon  resumed  its  serious  expres- 
sion, and  his  anxiety  was  communicating  itself  to 
Oliver,  though  he  hardly  knew  why  he  felt 
uneasy  or  what  he  dreaded. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Mrs.  Maddison  since 
you  came  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  that's  curious  too,  for  she  nearly 
always  makes  Mdlle.  Clarisse  write  when  there's 
anything  to  say,  and  though  it  takes  half  one's 
time  to  make  out  the  girl's  scrawl,  one  finds  out 
what's  going  on  without  her  always  intending  it. 
But  my  lady  wrote  herself  this  time  to  say  it 
was  all  going  right,  and  Mr.  Ralph  was  quite 
well,  and  I  need  not  come  back  for  another 
week.     I  have  the  letter  here." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  Dr.  Meredith's 
rooms,  towards  which  they  had  been  walking  as 
they  talked.     Oliver  turned  over  again  the  heap 


WEDDING-BELLS.  227 

of  letters  he  had  hastily  opened  on  his  arrival 
that  morning,  in  case  there  might  be  one  from 
Kingscombe  which  had  escaped  his  notice, 
but  there  was  none,  and  then  he  looked  at  the 
note  Mrs.  Maddison  had  sent  to  Duncan.  It 
was  dated  a  week  back,  and  was  an  ordinary, 
ladylike,  little  note,  such  as  any  mistress  might 
write  to  a  valued  and  rather  confidential  man- 
servant, and  yet  it  gave  Oliver  an  undefined 
feeling  of  nervousness  as  it  did  Duncan.  It 
was  no  use  telling  himself  it  was  nonsense,  and 
that  there  was  no  reason  why  mother  and  son 
should  not  enjoy  two  or  three  weeks  to  them- 
selves, unrestrained  by  the  society  even  of  a 
friend  as  intimate  as  himself,  or  a  servant  whose 
rule  often  becomes  tyrannical  when  he  knows 
himself  to  be  indispensable. 

He  could  not  rid  himself  of  an  uneasy  feeling, 
nor  could  Duncan  either  apparently,  for  he  kept 
fidgeting  about  the  room  and  interrupting  Dr. 
Meredith  in  a  manner  totally  unlike  his  usual 
behavior. 

"  He  was  queer  and  out   of  sorts,  and  I  told 


228  DEAR. 

her  so.  He  had  that  restlessness  that's  always 
a  sign  when  one  of  those  fits  is  coming  on,  and 
that  way  of  facing  it  out  that  he  was  all  right 
and  that  there  was  no  need  to  be  bothering, 
and  as  savage  as  a  bear  because  he  caught  me 
watching  him.  I  haven't  been  with  him  these 
six  years  without  knowing  pretty  well  when  he's 
in  for  one  of  them,  though  I've  known  them 
kept  off  if  he  keeps  quiet  and  don't  excite 
himself  about  anything.  But  there !  he's  that 
contrary,  as  you  know,  sir,  that  when  he  feels 
queer,  he'll  do  just  the  thing  to  make  him  worse, 
such  as  he'd  never  think  of  doing  when  he  was 
pretty  well ;  and  his  mother — asking  your 
pardon,  sir,  and  I  wouldn't  say  it  if  there  was 
any  one  besides  ourselves  and  you  an  old 
friend  of  the  family — she's  no  more  sense  or 
consideration  for  him  than  that  table." 

"  But,  Duncan,"  Oliver  protested,  arguing  as 
much  against  his  own  senseless  apprehension  as 
against  the  man's,  "Mrs.  Maddison  would  be 
the  last  person  to  wish  Mr.  Ralph  to  be  ill,  least 
of  all  when  you  were  away.     She  has  such  entire 


WEDDING-BELLS.  229 

confidence  in  you  and  in  your  knowing  how  to 
manage  when  Mr.  Ralph  gets  one  of  those  fits, 
that  she  would  never  have  let  you  go  if  she  had 
felt  the  least  fear  of  such  a  thing.  And  besides, 
she  would  have  telegraphed  for  you  at  once  if 
there  had  been  any  alarm.  Look  here  !  we 
should  have  time  to  catch  the  night  express  if 
we  look  sharp.  Hurry  up  and  fetch  your  traps, 
and  meet  me  at  Paddington  at  seven." 

He  told  himself,  as  he  re-packed  the  few 
things  he  had  taken  out  of  his  portmanteau, 
that  Duncan  was  a  fool  and  he  was  a  bigger  one, 
after  travelling  all  the  night  before  with  all  the 
wretched  discomforts  of  a  night  journey,  the 
rattle  and  grind  and  the  short  feverish  naps  in 
constrained  and  cramped  positions,  broken  by 
the  long  shrieking  whistle  as  the  train  rushed 
through  some  lighted  station  out  into  the  dark- 
ness, and  then  the  pale,  sickly  dawn,  when  you 
feel  dirty  and  shivering,  and  the  stopping  at 
some  station  and  the  appearance  of  fellow- 
passengers  in  all  sorts  of  unbecoming  costumes, 
querulous,  fatigued  women  and  surly,  unshaven 


230  DEAR. 

men,  struggling  for  coffee  without  any  pretence 
at  courtesy  or  ordinary  politeness.  Certainly 
one  does  not  get  favorable  impressions  of  one's 
kind  during  a  night  journey. 

It  was  all  so  fresh  in  his  memory  and  yet  he 
chose  to  repeat  the  dose,  when  he  might  have 
had  a  comfortable  night  in  his  own  bed  and  a 
leisurely  toilette,  and  gone  comfortably  down  to 
Kingscombe  arriving,  when  he  was  expected,  in 
time  for  dinner.  The  feeling  that  he  was  a  fool 
for  his  pains  increased  on  him  through  the  night, 
and  culminated  when  he  found  himself  standing 
on  the  platform  at  Cheriton  at  eight  o'clock 
next  morning,  very  grimy  and  bristly  as  to  his 
chin,  and  stiff  as  to  his  limbs  and  cross  as  to  his 
temper,  not  at  all  in  a  frame  of  mind  or  body  to 
present  himself  before  his  lady  love,  still  less 
before  Mrs.  Maddison. 

Perhaps  Duncan  felt  a  little  bit  the  same,  for 
when  Dr.  Meredith  proposed  a  wash  up  and 
breakfast  at  the  railway  hotel  before  they  went 
on  to  Kingscombe,  he  offered  no  objection  ;  and, 
having  sacrificed  their  night's  rest  and  comfort 


WEDDING-BELLS.  23 1 

for  the  sake  of  reaching  Kingscombe  earlier, 
they  sat  over  their  breakfast  in  the  cheerful,  little 
coffee-room  at  the  hotel  while  Oliver  described 
the  details  of  his  journey  to  Berlin  to  Duncan, 
who  had  been  a  great  traveller  in  his  time  and 
had  all  the  continental  railways  and  most  of 
the  hotels  at  his  fingers'-ends,  and  was  well 
acquainted  with  and  loved  to  discuss  all  the 
knavish  tricks  of  foreigners  as  practised  on  the 
British  tourist. 

So  it  was  nearly  ten  before  they  set  off  in  a 
fly  for  Kingscombe,  and  then,  the  morning  being 
beautiful  with  the  fresh,  invigorating  beauty  of 
late  September,  with  thick  white  dew  on  the 
grass  and  studding  the  cobwebs  on  the  hedge- 
rows, and  the  trees  all  russet  and  golden  over- 
head against  the  pale,  pleasant,  blue  sky,  they 
agreed  to  send  on  their  traps  in  the  fly,  whose 
shambling  gray  horse  did  not  go  at  an  exhila- 
rating pace,  and  walk  themselves  over  the  hill  to 
Kingscombe,  climbing  to  the  top  by  what  in 
those  parts  was  called  "the  pig's  path,"  steps 
cut  or  worn  in  the  turf,  which  would  bring  them 


232  DEAR. 

up  to  the  brow  of  the  hill,  right  over  Kings- 
combe,  from  whence  they  could  drop  down  on 
the  village  nestling  below. 

Oliver  had  lost  all  that  feeling  of  apprehension 
that  had  brought  him  down  at  so  much  persona] 
discomfort  through  the  night.  The  pleasure  of 
getting  back  to  Kingscombe  had  taken  its  place, 
the  sense  of  nearness  to  Dear,  the  charm  of  the 
place,  the  thought  of  what  he  should  say,  how 
she  would  answer  when  they  met.  It  was  all  so 
exquisitely  sweet  to  think  of,  that  he  stopped 
when  he  reached  the  top  of  the  hill  and  sat 
down,  hoping  that  Duncan  would  go  on  and 
leave  him  to  his  own  devices.  But  Duncan  too 
seemed  to  have  lost  all  wish  to  hurry,  and  he 
too  took  a  seat  on  a  flat  gray  stone  hard  by  and 
puffed  away  at  his  pipe  in  peaceful  silence ;  he 
too,  perhaps,  having  pleasing  subjects  of  reflec- 
tion connected  with  the  little  village  below, 
from  whose  chimneys  the  blue  wood  smoke 
curled  up. 

It  was  the  very  spot  where  Dear  and  Ralph 
had  sat  six  years  before,  tossing  the  snail  shells 


WEDDING-BELLS.  233 

at  the  sheep  feeding  below  them,  and  discussing 
the  possibility  of  being  bored  in  such  an  in- 
teresting world ;  it  was  nearly  the  place  where  a 
month  before  Oliver  had  come  in  sight  of  Dear 
with  Dan  by  her  side  returning  to  the  village. 
What  if  kind  fate  would  permit  such  a  thing  to 
occur  again  ?  What  if  he  might  make  his  way 
down  the  steep  hillside  and  through  those  gorse 
bushes  to  the  lower  path  and  join  her,  and  see 
the  color  brighten  in  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes 
meet  his  with  startled  glad  surprise  ? 

But  at  the  very  moment  that  the  thought  sent 
the  blood  warm  and  quick  through  his  veins, 
from  the  little  gray  church  tower  below,  the  bells 
began  to  ring  out  a  glad  peal  of  their  sweet,  old 
tones,  with  a  clash  and  a  hurry  and  a  cheerful 
energy  as  if  each  wanted  to  be  the  first  to  tell 
some  good  news  and  set  the  world  smiling. 

"  Hullo,  Duncan,  there's  a  wedding.  Who  can 
it  be  ?  Steady  there  !  That's  Nicholls  with  the 
tenor  bell,  he's  always  running  away.  Don't 
they  ring  with  a  will  ?  It  might  be  one  of  them- 
selves being  married  to  hear  them.     Well  done  ! 


234  DEAR. 

Well  done!  Come,  Duncan,  let's  go  down  or 
we  shall  be  too  late  to  drink  their  health, 
whoever  they  may  be." 

"  Will  they  ring  like  that  for  me  ? "  he  won- 
dered, "for  me  and  Dear  ?  " 

Down  below  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  is  a  little 
bit  of  arable  land,  shaped  like  a  cocked-hat,  with 
the  point  running  up  into  the  hillside  turf.  It 
had  been  ploughed  and  sown  since  Oliver  had 
been  gone,  and  now  a  village  boy  had  been  set 
to  watch  over  it  and  prevent  the  great,  shiny, 
black  rooks  who  sailed  so  solemnly  round  the 
shoulder  of  the  hill,  from  settling  down  on  the 
patch  and  carrying  off  the  seed.  It  needed  all 
little  Will  Kemp's  power  of  lungs  and  the  heavy 
wooden  rattle  with  which  he  was  furnished  to 
keep  the  rooks  away,  and  even  with  his  best 
exertions  one  of  them  would  leave  the  clamorous 
party  in  the  elms,  and  ignoring  Will's  hoarse, 
Loamshire  objurgations  and  the  clods  of  earth 
that  supplemented  them,  drop  on  to  the  rich 
brown  mould  with  a  loud,  raucous  caw  of 
triumph. 


WEDDING-BELLS.  235 

But  just  now  the  rooks  had  a  fine  opportunity 
of  taking  their  fill,  for  Will  Kemp's  attention 
had  been  entirely  distracted  from  the  cocked- 
hat  patch  by  the  church  bells,  and,  mounted  on 
the  gate  with  his  back  turned  to  the  field,  he 
was  vainly  trying  to  follow  the  bells  with  his 
voice,  "  Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  ding-dong,  ding- 
dong,"  and  finding  that  impossible  from  their 
glad  hurry,  one  bell  treading  on  another's  heels 
and  tripping  over  one  another,  he  subsided  into 
"  Hip,  hip,  hip,  hooray  !  hip,  hip,  hip,  hooray  !  " 
whirling  the  rattle  round  and  round  his  head  to 
add  to  the  gratifying  din. 

He  was  so  deafened  by  his  own  performances 
that  it  was  a  minute  or  two  before  he  could  hear 
Oliver's  question — 

"  Whose  wedding  is  it,  Willie  ?  "  and  when  he 
heard  it,  his  mouth  dropped  and  his  eyes  opened 
in  such  surprise,  almost  amounting  to  incredulity, 
that  any  one,  most  of  all  "  Muster  Doctor,"  should 
be  ignorant  of  such  a  tremendous  fact,  delayed 
his  answer. 

"  Don't  yer  know  ?     Well  a-never  !     Don'tee 


236  DEAR. 

hear  the  bells  ?  Why  it's  the  young  Squire's 
wedding,  blesh  yer,  and  Miss  Dear's.  Hip,  hip, 
hip,  hooray  !  ding-dong,  ding-dong.  Hip,  hip, 
hooray.  B — r — r — r — r —  Oh  !  I  say  !  leave 
go  !     I  ain't  done  nothing  !     Tain't  a  lie  !  " 

For  "  Muster  Doctor,"  as  the  boy  told  after- 
wards, had  got  him  by  the  collar  and  was  shak- 
ing him  till  his  teeth  chattered,  and  then  flung 
him  into  a  gorse  bush  as  if  he  had  been  an  old 
sack,  and  went  striding  off  towards  the  village 
with  the  wooden  rattle  grasped  unconsciously  in 
his  hand,  and  "  Muster  Duncan  after  him  with  a 
face  as  long  as  my  arm." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

a  mother's  doing. 

"  That  a  lie  which  is  half  the  truth  is  ever  the  blackest 
of  lies, 
That  a  lie  which  is  all  a  lie  may  be  met  and  fought 

with  outright  ; 
But  a  lie  which  is  part  a  truth  is  a  harder  matter  to 
,       fight." — Tennyson. 

/^\UT  of  the  little  gray  church  at  Kingscombe, 
as  the  bells  announced  far  and  near,  a 
wedding  party  was  coming,  and  the  whole  popu- 
lation of  the  village  was  there  to  see,  except  that 
poor,  little,  ill-used  Will  Kemp,  of  whom  mention 
has  been  made  in  the  last  chapter.  Old  women 
who  had  not  been  outside  their  doors  or  out  of 
their  armchairs  for  years,  babies  of  a  few  days 
old,  hobbling,  crippled,  old  men,  laborers  from 
the    plough,     women    from    the    wash-tub,    all 

(237) 


238  DEAR. 

pressing,  crowding  round  to  wish  their  Miss 
Dear  happiness  on  her  wedding-day. 

Happy  is  the  bride  that  the  sun  shines  on, 
and,  as  we  have  seen,  the  sun  was  shining  with 
a  will  that  September  day,  and,  as  the  bride 
came  out  from  the  shadow  of  the  old  yew-tree, 
it  fell  full  upon  her  like  a  loving  blessing  from 
the  kind  old  nurse,  Nature,  whom  the  girl  had 
loved  and  learnt  of  from  her  babyhood. 

Dear  was  very  pale,  but  then  she  had  never 
much  color,  and  her  eyes  had  a  startled,  dazed 
look  in  them,  such  as  one  does  not  often  see  in 
a  happy,  young  bride. 

"She  didn't  look  somehow  natural  like!" 
was  the  verdict  of  the  loving  hearts  who  had 
known  her  all  her  life,  since  she  was  the  baby 
child  of  two  years  in  the  drab  pelisse  who  had 
won  them  all  by  her  innocent  confidence  in 
their  kindness.  They  really  did  feel  this  mis- 
giving, though,  as  none  of  them  mentioned  the 
fact  till  after  events  had  clouded  the  brightness 
of  the  wedding-day,  cynical  hearers  might  have 
doubted  it. 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  239 

Dress,  as  I  have  said  before,  made  but  little 
difference  in  Dear,  or  else  this  day  of  all  days 
of  her  life  she  should  have  appeared  to  advan- 
tage, for  Mdlle.  Clarisse  had  had  the  making  of 
the  soft  white  dress,  and  no  doubt  imparted  to 
it  a  style  which  none  of  Dear's  dresses  had  ever 
known  before ;  and  the  same  skilful  fingers  had 
arranged  the  fair  hair  into  soft  plaits  and  curls, 
the  very  abundance  of  the  material  being  an 
embarrassment  to  one  used  to  make  the  most  of 
scantiness,  and  supplement  it  with  artificial  aids. 

No  one  could  wonder  if  the  bride's  face  were 
anxious  or  troubled  who  looked  at  the  bride- 
groom who  walked  by  her  side  in  such  a  strange, 
shambling,  spasmodic  way.  "  Dear  sakes  ! " 
whispered  one  of  the  onlookers,  "  if  it  ain't  a-been 
the  young  Squire,  a-might  have  said  he'd  had  a 
drop."  There  was  a  glazy,  staring  look  in  his 
eyes,  and  he  bit  at  his  under  lip  as  though  he 
were  trying  to  control  himself,  and  the  arm  that 
Dear  held  trembled  and  twitched  under  her 
hand,  and  once,  as  they  came  down  the  aisle, 
he  stopped  and  held  to  the  side  of  a  pew,  as   if 


he  needed  support,  and  then  pushed  back  the 
damp  hair  from  his  forehead  and  passed  his 
hand  over  his  eyes  as  if  he  could  not  see  dis- 
tinctly. No  wonder  that  the  bride  should  look 
troubled,  or  that  his  mother,  following  close  be- 
hind with  Clive,  should  watch  him  so  anxiously. 
Mrs.  Maddison  looked  haggard  ;  yes,  even  in 
spite  of  her  careful  toilette  and  artistic  com- 
plexion, she  looked  old  and  haggard  as  she 
came  out  into  the  September  sunshine.  Those 
three  weeks  had  aged  her  more  than  double 
their  number  of  years  had  done.  One  of  the 
bystanders  spoke  of  her  as  "  t'  ould  lady,"  and 
no  one  protested  at  the  application  of  the 
adjective.  But  indeed  she  had  had  hard  work 
during  those  three  weeks,  the  time  was  so  short, 
the  anxieties  and  risks  so  great,  it  was  enough  to 
wear  and  age  a  stronger  woman  ;  and  even  now, 
when  the  purpose  for  which  she  had  worked  and 
intrigued  was  successfully  carried  out,  there  was 
Oliver's  return  to  face,  which  every  moment 
grew  a  more  terrible  prospect  to  her  guilty 
conscience. 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  241 

She  had  made  up  her  mind  to  this  that  very 
first  morning  at  Kingscombe  when  Oliver  had 
sat  playing  with  Dear's  glove  ;  it  had  been  a 
firm  and  fixed  purpose  when  she  stood  bidding 
him  good-bye  on  the  steps  as  he  drove  away. 
Dear,  as  a  possible  rival,  and  the  possibility 
might  almost  be  reckoned  a  certainty,  and  a 
successful  rival  too,  must  be  removed  clear  out 
of  Oliver's  reach,  and  how  better  than  by  marry- 
ing her  to  Ralph,  who  was  devoted  to  the  girl  ? 
It  was  no  sacrifice  of  Dear,  she  told  herself, 
when  conscience — poor,  easily  smothered,  little 
conscience,  used  to  summary  treatment  for  many 
a  year  at  Mrs.  Maddison's  hands,  but  still  lifting 
its  head  and  making  its  thin,  little  voice  heard 
— ventured  a  remonstrance  ;  it  was  a  brilliant 
match  for  a  penniless  clergyman's  daughter,  and 
one  which  few  mothers  in  her  situation  would 
have  thought  good  enough,  for  their  only  son, 
but  Ralph's  heart  was  set  on  it,  and  as  long  as 
he  was  happy  and  well,  this  unworldly  mother 
was  content. 

It   was   easy   enough  to  put  it  into    Ralph's 
16 


242  DEAR. 

head.  That  very  first  evening  after  Oliver's 
departure,  and  before  Duncan,  had  been 
despatched  for  his  holiday,  the  seed  was  suc- 
cessfully sown. 

He  was  so  well  at  Kingscombe,  it  really 
appeared  to  suit  him  so  thoroughly  that  it 
seemed  a  pity  he  should  not  make  up  his  mind 
to  settle  there.  It  was  just  what  his  poor  father 
would  have  liked,  and  the  place  could  easily 
be  improved  and  modernized  and  the  stables 
rebuilt. 

"  But,  mother,  you  would  not  like  it  ?  " 

Mrs.  Maddison  smiled  behind  her  fan.  What 
a  child  he  is  still  !  "  No,"  she  answered,  "  and 
you  would  want  some  one  younger  and  brighter 
than  your  poor,  old  mother.  Ralph,"  she  said, 
and  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  knee  as  they  sat  in 
the  firelight  in  the  drawing-room — "  Ralph,  I 
think  a  wife  is  what  you  want.  I  have  taken  a 
great  fancy  to  this  little  Dear  of  yours,  and  I 
have  a  dream  that  I  should  like  her  for  a 
daughter-in-law." 

After  that  the  conversation    seemed  to  Mrs. 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  243 

Maddison  to  become  rather  monotonous,  even 
though  the  substance  of  it  was  exactly  what  she 
wished.  There  is  a  limit  to  hearing  another 
woman's  praises  sung,  and  she  had  to  hide  more 
than  one  yawn  behind  her  fan,  and  once  she 
caught  herself  nodding  and  was  only  awakened, 
and  that  thoroughly,  by  hearing  him  say  :  "  But 
I  don't  think  I'm  half  good  enough  for  her,  and 
besides,  I've  sometimes  thought  she  had  a  liking 
for  Meredith." 

"Nonsense!"  her  voice  startled  him  it  was 
so  sharp  ;  "it's  plain  to  any  one  that  she  prefers 
you.  Dr.  Meredith  is  much  too  serious  to  take 
a  girl's  fancy." 

"  Well,  perhaps  he  is  a  bit  prosy,"  and  Ralph 
was  launched  again  on  his  wearisome  elo- 
quence. 

So  far,  so  good,  but  it  was  not  so  easy  with 
Dear,  though  Mrs.  Maddison  implored  Ralph  to 
let  her  pave  the  way  before  he  came  blundering 
out  with  his  proposal  and  frightened  the  girl.  She 
made  a  great  deal  of  Dear  the  next  day  or  two, 
and  took  infinite  pains  to  make  her  like  her,  and 


244  DEAR. 

succeeded,  for  a  true  nature  does  not  easily 
suspect  deceit,  and  the  first  intuitive  repulsion 
Dear  had  felt  died  away  before  Mrs.  Maddison's 
caressing  kindness. 

Oliver's  name  was  never  mentioned,  but  the 
conversation  turned  much  on  Ralph  whenever 
he  was  not  present  and  the  two  were  alone 
together.  Dear  was  ready  enough  to  talk  of 
him — almost  too  ready — Mrs.  Maddison  thought. 
There  was  no  shyness,  no  consciousness,  as  a  girl 
might  show  when  talking  of  a  possible  lover ; 
she  spoke  of  him  just  as  she  did  of  Clive,  and 
did  not  hesitate  to  say  she  was  fond  of  him  and 
discuss  his  good  looks  and  pleasant  manners, 
and  to  say  how  much  she  should  miss  him  when 
he  went  away  ;  but  she  said  it  all  without  a 
shade  of  color  rising  to  her  cheeks  or  a 
moment's  lowering  of  the  eyes  that  looked  so 
simply  and  straight  at  his  mother.  Mrs. 
Maddison  knew  enough  of  girls'  nature  to  feel 
that  this  was  not  encouraging. 

Dear  entered  with  earnest  sympathy  into  all 
Mrs.  Maddison's  anxiety  about  Ralph's  delicacy 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  245 

of  health,  and  agreed  that  Kingscombe  seemed 
to  suit  him  wonderfully  well. 

"I  have  been  telling  him,"  Mrs.  Maddison 
said,  "  that  as  he  is  so  well  and  so  happy  here, 
it  seems  to  me  that  he  cannot  do  better  than 
settle  down  as  a  country  squire  in  the  old  place 
as  his  father  did  before  him.  His  father  would 
have  loved  to  think  of  Ralph  taking  up  the 
position  he  himself  held  in  the  county ;  and, 
of  course,  a  great  deal  might  be-  done  to  make 
the  place  more  habitable,  only —  "  and  here  Mrs. 
Maddison  sighed  and  paused  for  a  minute,  and 
Dear  waited  inquiringly —  "  only  I  am  afraid  I 
could  not  possibly  come  and  live  with  him  here, 
poor  boy  !  There  are  so  many  ties  and  duties 
that  keep  me  in  London." 

"  Yes,"  Dear  answered  in  eager  response  to  a 
mother's  feelings,  "  it  would  be  dreadful  for  you 
being  separated  from  him." 

"  Yes,  of  course,"  said  Mrs.  Maddison,  with  a 
touch  of  impatience  in  her  voice;  "but  I  was 
not  thinking  of  myself  but   of  him  ;  it  would  be 


246  DEAR. 

so  lonely  for  him,  and  he  is  so  dependent  on  love 
and  companionship." 

It  was  not  often  that  Dear's  attention  wan- 
dered ;  she  was  one  of  those  delightful  listeners 
who  invited  confidence  by  their  never-failing 
lively  interest  ;  but  now  perhaps  she  might  be 
excused  for  thinking  of  the  companionship  Ralph 
had  enjoyed  that  summer,  and  wondering  if  the 
same  perfect  arrangement  might  not  be  contin- 
ued indefinitely.  But  she  was  brought  back  to 
the  present  by  the  light  touch  of  Mrs.  Maddi- 
son's  little  hand  on  her  arm,  and  became  aware 
that  that  lady  was  bending  towards  her  and  speak- 
ing with  much  earnestness. 

"  My  dear,"  she  was  saying,  "  if  I  knew  that 
Ralph  had  a  sweet,  young  wife  like  you  to  love 
and  care  for  him,  I  could  feel  quite  happy." 

"  Ralph's  wife  !  "  Dear  answered  with  a  start, 
that  made  the  caressing  hand  on  her  arm  drop 
suddenly  away.  "  Oh  no,  that  couldn't  be.  I 
like  him  ever  so  much.  I  would  do  anything 
for  him.     I  would  nurse  him  if  he  were  ill,  and 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  247 

care  for  him  just  as  I  do  for  Clive  and  my  father 
— but  his  wife  ?  no,  that  is  something  quite 
different,  you  know." 

The  girl's  voice  shook  and  faltered,  and, 
though  Mrs.  Maddison's  eyes  had  no  longer 
the  clear  sight  of  her  youth,  and  the  twilight 
was  beginning  to  creep  into  the  room,  she 
could  see  the  soft  color  tint  the  colorless 
cheek,  and  the  sweet,  truthful  eyes  droop  to 
hide  the  sudden  light  that  shone  out  in  them, 
and  my  lady  turned  away  with  an  impatient 
jerk,  knowing  that  the  "  something  quite  dif- 
ferent" was  in  the  girl's  heart,  but  not  for 
Ralph  ;  and  the  little,  delicate  hand  that  had 
lain  so  affectionately  on  Dear's  arm  a  minute 
before,  clenched  itself  as  if  it  would  willingly 
have  struck  the  girl  who  loved  Oliver  Meredith. 

"  You  are  not  vexed  with  me  ?  "  Dear  asked, 
after  the  minute's  silence  that  ensued. 

"  Vexed  with  you  ? "  Mrs.  Maddison  controlled 
her  voice  with  an  effort.  "  No,  my  dear,  only  a 
little  disappointed.  Poor  Ralph !  he  will  feel 
it  a  good   deal,  for  I  know  his  heart  is  greatly 


248  DEAR. 

set  on  it,  and  he  is  so  sensitive,  so  delicately 
strung,  and  I  had  hoped  so  much — let  myself 
build  so  on  the  hope  of  his  living  at  Kings- 
combe,  and  growing  strong,  and  shaking  off 
the  delicacy  of  his  boyhood.  Oh  no,  dear — "  as 
Dear  began  eagerly  to  interrupt  her —  "  he  never 
could  live  at  Kingscombe  alone,  and,  of  course — 
Dr.  Meredith  and  I  could  not  often  be  with  him." 

It  was  done,  the  blow  that  cruel,  pretty  little 
hand  had  longed  to  deal,  had  been  given  far 
more  effectually  by  the  soft,  silver  tones  of  my 
lady's  tongue.  There  was  a  little  gasp  and  a 
shiver,  and  in  the  twilight  that  had  deepened 
Mrs.  Maddison  could  only  see  the  outline  of 
Dear's  figure  against  the  evening  sky  outside 
the  window  near  which  they  sat,  quite  still, 
with  hands  clasped  together  and  head  a  little 
drooped — poor,  little  head  !  — to  shield  which 
from  pain  Oliver  Meredith  would  have  given 
his  life. 

But  Mrs.  Maddison  went  pitilessly  on. 

"  There  is  something  about  you,  child,  that 
makes    one    inclined    to    be    confidential,    but 


A    MOTHER'S    DOING.  249 

perhaps  you  may  have  guessed  my  secret 
already — our  secret,  Oliver's  and  mine.  You 
know  I  was  hardly  more  than  a  child  when 
I  married  Mr.  Maddison.  I  was  just  out  of 
the  schoolroom.  He  was  very  good  to  me, 
and  I  was  quite  happy  and  content  with  him, 
but  I  loved  him  more  like  a  father,  for,  as 
you  said  just  now,  the  love  of  a  wife  is  some- 
thing different.  You  are  quite  right.  I  think 
I  know  it  now  since  I  have  known  Oliver. 
But,  Dear,  short  of  that,  if  you  can  be  sure 
that  you  are  making  some  one  else  happy  as 
I  did  in  those  old  days  with  Mr.  Maddison, 
it  goes  a  long  way  to  make  you  happy  your- 
self, and  Mr.  Maddison  was  very  much  in 
character  like  Ralph,  kind  and  simple-hearted 
and  domestic  and  fond  of  home  and  quiet,  and 
he  used  to  say  I  made  his  happiness.  It  all 
comes  back  to  me  now  when  a  new  life  is 
beginning  for  me,  and  now  and  then  it  seems 
as  if  I  were  doing  a  wrong  to  the  kind,  old  man 
who  petted  me  and  humored  my  every  wish, 
but  I  know  he  would    have   wished    before    al] 


250  DEAR. 

things  that  I  should  be  happy,  and  I  think 
there  is  no  doubt  of  that  with  Oliver,  do  you, 
Dear?  for  you  must  have  seen  a  little  of  him 
since  he  has  been  at  Kingscombe,  and,  indeed, 
he  said  such  pretty  things  about  you  that  I 
could  almost  have  been  jealous,  if  it  had  been 
any  one  but  Oliver.  Why,  here  is  Martin  with 
the  lamp ;  and  it  is  nearly  time  to  dress  for 
dinner.  Will  you  stop  and  dine  with  us  ? 
Ralph  will  be  so  disappointed  if  you  are  gone 
before  he  comes  in.  Must  you  go  ?  Ah,  the 
dear  Vicar,  he  cannot  get  on  without  you. 
There,  child,  I  will  not  worry  you ;  but  think 
if  that  little  plan  of  mine  were  possible,  you 
would  be  always  with  him,  he  would  not  lose 
his  daughter."  And  Mrs.  Maddison  kissed  a 
cheek  that  was  very  white  and  chill,  and  pressed 
a  little,  cold  hand. 

Next  day  the  attack  was  renewed  from  a 
different  point.  Mrs.  Maddison  was  full  of 
Clive  and  his  wonderful  genius,  and  Dear,  who 
was  very  white  and  still,  with  a  new  strange 
look  in  the  soft  eyes   and  on  the   gentle   lips, 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  25 1 

hailed  this  new  subject,  not  seeing  at  first  how 
it  was  to  be  brought  to  bear. 

Dear  was  pleased,  or  rather  she  was  content, 
for  just  then  she  was  too  numbed  to  feel  any 
active  pleasure  ;  everything,  pleasure  and  pain 
alike,  seemed  far  off  and  indistinct.  But  she 
was  satisfied  to  listen  to  Clive's  praises,  and 
agreed  duly  that  it  was  a  pity  he  should  be 
buried  in  an  out-of-the-way  place  like  Kings- 
combe.  Others  had  said  the  same  to  her  before, 
when  voices  and  feelings  were  nearer  and 
clearer  and  more  real.  It  was  years  ago, 
surely,  that  somebody  spoke  of  Clive's  great 
talents  as  they  stood  by  the  sunny  wall  in  the 
kitchen-garden  watching  him  gather  the  pears. 

"  He  ought,  to  go  to  Cambridge,"  Mrs.  Maddi- 
son  said.  "  Ah !  Dear,  if  he  were  Ralph's 
brother  it  would  make  it  all  so  easy.  There 
need  be  no  question  of  ways  and  means  then, 
and  when  he  had  distinguished  himself  and 
made  a  name  in  the  world,  how  proud  we 
should  all  be  of  him,  and  how  grateful  he  would 
be  to  the  sister  who  had  made  success  possible 


252  DEAR. 

to  him.     But  there !   it   is  no  use  thinking   of 

such  things,  is  it  ?  " 

I  think  if  Dear  had  not  been  so  dazed  and 
numb  and  shaken,  she  would  have  seen  through 
the  snares  that  Mrs.  Maddison  laid  for  her,  have 
appreciated  the  want  of  delicacy  and  the  clumsi- 
ness with  which  the  bribe  was  offered.  Perhaps 
even  now  she  would  have  held  out,  but  for  a 
circumstance  that  happened  most  unfortunately 
at  that  very  time  when  the  world,  which  had 
been  so  full  of  Oliver  not  a  week  before,  was 
empty  and  desolate,  and  the  heart  that  had 
been  so  glad  and  ga)'  was  sore  and  sad. 

She  was  going  home  that  evening  after  Mrs. 
Maddison  had  been  talking  of  Clive,  not  with 
that  quick,  light  step  that  Oliver  recognized 
from  afar,  even  half-way  up  the  hill,  but  slowly 
and  lingeringly,  when  at  the  entrance  to  the 
village  Clive  overtook  her.  She  could  see  at 
a  glance  that  something  had  happened,  and 
he  was  not  slow  in  telling  her  what  it  was. 

"  I've  lost  my  situation  at  the  Grammar 
School.     I've    not    got    the    sack   in    so   many 


A  MOTHER'S   DOING.  253 

words  yet,  but  there's  no  help  for  it ;  it's  safe 
to  come,  and  on  the  whole,  I'm  glad  of  it." 

"Oh,  Clive,  what  is  it?" 

"  Why,  that  great  bully  Marsland,  you  know 
— his  father  has  the  big  factory  the  other  side 
of  Cheriton — well,  he  cheeked  me  in  class.  It's 
not  the  first  time  he's  done  it,  and  I've  managed 
to  put  up  with  it,  but  to-day  I  couldn't  stand 
it,  and  I  struck  him.  Oh,  what  a  fool  I  am  not 
to  be  stronger.  If  I'd  been  able  to  give  him 
a  good  licking  it  would  have  been  all  right,'  but 
he's  twice  the  man  I  am,  and  he  struck  back 
and  knocked  me  right  down  and  I  hit  my  head 
against  the  table  and  didn't  come  to  for  a 
minute,  and  there  was  a  hullaballoo,  and  the 
boys  were  frightened,  and  old  Jackson  was 
called  in." 

"  Oh,  Clive,  were  you  hurt  ?  Can  you  feel  it 
now  ?  " 

"  Oh,  bother  the  hurt  !  Jackson  was  in  a 
towering  rage  and  expelled  Marsland  there  and 
then." 

"  Well,  Clive,   and  he   quite   deserved  it.     It 


254  DEAR. 

will  be  a  lesson  to  the  other  boys  and  make  it 
pleasanter  for  you." 

Clive  laughed. 

"  But  Marsland's  one  of  old  Jackson's  best 
cards.  He  has  half  a  dozen  younger  brothers 
coming  on,  and  old  Marsland  is  made  of  money, 
and  is  thought  a  lot  of  in  Cheriton,  and  he'll  be 
as  mad  as  a  hatter  and  do  all  he  knows  against 
the  school.  I  don't  think  Jackson  will  care  for 
the  sight  of  me  after  this,  and  he  might  make 
his  peace  with  Marsland  if  I  was  out  of  the  way 
— Oh,  Dear,  I  think  I'm  glad  it's  come  to  an 
end.  I  was  sick  and  tired  of  it.  I'd  a  hundred 
times  rather  go  to  plough  or  dig  in  the  garden 
than  grind  away  with  those  boys.  But  what  can 
I  do  ?  Dear,  what  can  I  do  ?  It  does  seem  so 
hard  on  a  fellow  never  to  get  a  chance,  and  to 
feel  I've  got  it  in  me  to  do  something,  if  only  I 
wasn't  tied  hand  and  foot.  What's  the  use  of 
having  brains,  as  people  say  I  have,  if  one's  to 
rot  here  all  one's  life." 

And  Dear  could  only  cling  to  his  arm, 
and  rub  her  cheek   against    his    shoulder,  and 


A   MOTHER'S    DOING.  255 

entreat  him  to  have  patience,  it  would  all  come 
right. 

But  at  night  as  she  lay  awake  in  that  dull, 
sleepless  suffering  the  long  nights  brought,  she 
heard  the  boy  sobbing  in  his  little  bedroom 
next  to  hers,  and  trying  to  stifle  the  sound  in 
the  bed-clothes.  He  was  such  a  boy  still,  she 
felt  years  older  than  he,  as  she  sat  up  in  dry- 
eyed  misery  listening  to  his  sobs,  which  she 
knew  she  must  ignore ;  for  it  is  only  with  his 
mother  that  a  boy  is  not  ashamed  of  his 
tears. 

But  this  was  not  all,  for  next  morning  her 
father  came  to  her  with  a  letter  in  his  hand  and 
a  look  of  bewilderment  and  worry  in  his  face. 
Money  troubles  had  not  disturbed  the  quiet 
of  their  lives  for  many  years,  they  had  lived 
so  quietly  and  simply  and  shabbily  and  con- 
tentedly, with  hardly  any  temptation  to  spend 
money ;  but  here  was  a  bill,  the  length  of  which 
made  Mr.  Hume  and  Dear  aghast,  though  it 
might  have  appeared  a  mere  trifle  in  ordinary 
households. 


256  DEAR. 

It  was  from  a  wine-merchant  at  Cheriton, 
and  was  almost  entirely  for  wine  given  away 
in  the  parish,  a  matter  in  which  Mr.  Hume, 
according  to  Patty,  was  certainly  inclined  to  be 
extravagant. 

"As  did  oughter  know  better  than  to  come 
bothering  for  port  wine  every  time  they've  any 
aches  and  pains.  If  I  was  the  master  I'd  give 
'em  a  good  drop  of  rue  along  of  it,  and  they'd 
not  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  take  it.  'Twas  just 
the  same  with  my  black-currant  jam.  I'd  never 
have  had  a  bit  left  in  my  cupboard — if  the 
children  had  a  pain  in  their  big  toe,  the  mothers 
come  after  black-currant  jam  for  'em.  So  I  said 
as  I'd  heerd  tell  as  a  little  alum  was  good  to 
be  took  with  it,  for  sore  throats  or  broken  chil- 
blains or  a  pain  in  the  innerds,  and  the  first  as 
came  I  gave  'em  a  taste  of  it,  and  said  as  they 
couldn't  have  the  jam  nohows  without  the  alum 
mixed  with  it,  and  after,  that  bless  you  !  I  had 
black-currant  jam  in  my  cupboard  all  the  winter 
and  roley-poleys  in  May." 

But  Mr.  Hume  was  not  so  wise  as  Patty,  and 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  257 

the  wine  merchant's  bill  had  crept  up  by  degrees 
to  what  seemed  to  them  an  alarming  sum,  and 
moreover,  an  early  remittance  was  asked  for ; 
and  Dear  remembered  with  a  pang  that  the 
wine  merchant's  son  was  at  the  Grammar  School, 
and  that  perhaps  the  peremptory  sending  in  of 
the  account  might  be  one  of  the  results  of  poor 
Clive's  loss  of  temper  ;  and  she  took  care  to  keep 
it  out  of  his  sight,  which  was  not  difficult,  as  he 
was  too  heavy-eyed  and  miserable  to  notice 
anything. 

At  the  Manor  she  found  Ralph  out  of  sorts. 
Duncan  had  not  been  mistaken  in  thinking  him 
queer  when  he  went  away,  and  the  excitement 
produced  by  his  mother's  conversation  had  not 
improved  his  condition.  He  had  been  very 
cross  and  irritable  to  his  mother  that  morning. 
Duncan's  absence  had  interfered  with  his  com- 
fort, and  he  was  inclined  to  be  fretful  and  contra- 
dictory. But  with  Dear  he  was  hardly  ever  out 
of  temper,  and  when  she  came  in  he  consented 
at  once  to  lie  down  on  the  sofa,  which  he  had 
altogether  refused  to  do  at  his  mother's  request, 
17 


258  DEAR. 

and  keep  quiet  if  Dear  would  sit  with  him  and 
read  and  talk  to  him. 

So  Mrs.  Maddison  gladly  gave  over  the  charge 
of  her  very  troublesome  invalid,  and  went  away 
with  an  expressive  look  at  the  girl,  which  Dear 
wearily  avoided,  and  a  sigh  which  roused  even 
Dear's  gentle  nature  to  opposition. 

"  Sit  where  I  can  see  you,"  he  said  ;  and  she 
moved  at  once.  His  eyes  had  not  the  power 
to  embarrass  her  or  make  her  conscious,  his 
look  was  less  to  her  even  than  Dan's  gaze, 
which  disturbed  her  sometimes  by  its  fixed, 
inarticulate  meaning.  "  I  have  so  much  to 
say  to  you,"  he  began,  but  she  stopped 
him. 

"  Hush  !  I  am  going  to  read  to  you,"  and  she 
took  up  a  book  from  the  table,  but  dropped  it 
again  with  a  little  shiver.  It  was  one  belonging 
to  Oliver  Meredith,  a  book  of  translations  and 
poems,  out  of  which  he  had  read  bits  to  her,  and 
she  took  up  in  preference  a  novel  that  my  lady 
had  been  reading,  and  she  read  steadily  on 
through  a   chapter   or   two    of   feeble   twaddle, 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  259 

mainly  made  up  of  descriptions  of  dress  and 
furniture,  and  vapid  conversation  interlarded 
with  French  expressions. 

It  did  not  matter  to  Ralph  what  she  read  as 
long  as  it  was  she  who  read  it,  and  before  long 
his  eyes  closed  and  he  fell  asleep,  and  she  let 
the  book  drop  into  her  lap,  and  sat  still  looking 
before  her  with  great  sad  gray  eyes,  that  seemed 
trying  to  look  into  the  future,  which  lay  in 
deepest  gloom  before  her. 

It  was  very  quiet  and  peaceful  in  the  Manor 
drawing-room  ;  if  it  had  not  been  that  every 
corner  of  the  room,  every  stone  of  the  terrace 
steps  outside,  every  group  of  trees  or  glimpse  of 
soft  grass  in  the  park  beyond,  was  associated 
past  all  separation  with  bitter-sweet  memories, 
Dear  could  have  fancied  herself  happy,  could 
have  imagined  without  disquiet  a  future  spent 
in  the  old  place  which  she  loved,  with  Ralph, 
whom  she  certainly  liked.  She  was  so  sorry  for 
him  ;  as  he  lay  there  he  looked  so  ill.  She  had 
it  in  her  power  to  make  him  so  happy,  and  if, 
as  my  lady  had  said,  you  can  be  quite   sure  you 


260  DEAR. 

are  making  some  one  else  happy,  it  goes  a  long 
way  to  make  you  happy  yourself. 

And  then  in  array  passed  before  her  the  other 
arguments  Mrs.  Maddison  had  used,  and  others 
that  the  girl's  own  unselfish,  loving  heart  brought 
against  her :  Clive  and  his  prospects,  —  her 
father,  and  being  constantly  near  him,  and  able 
to  help  in  such  matters  as  that  unpaid  bill, — 
sick  and  poor  and  suffering,  for  whom  she  could 
do  so  little  now,  but  might  have  it  in  her  power 
to  do  so  much, — schemes  of  improvement  which 
the  want  of  funds  had  made  impossible.  If 
Mrs.  Maddison  had  but  known  it,  that  after- 
noon, when  not  a  word  of  argument  was  said 
to  Dear,  did  more  to  persuade  her  than  all  the 
eloquence  in  the  world,  and  it  took  my  lady 
quite  by  surprise  when  Ralph  came  in  that  even- 
ing from  walking  home  with  Dear,  and  said — 

"  Mother,  I've  asked  Dear  to  marry  me,  and 
she  has  consented." 

And  then,  when  everything  seemed  going 
exactly  as  Mrs.  Maddison  wished,  difficulties 
arose   in   the  very  quarter   in   which   she   least 


A   MOTHER'S   DOING.  26l 

expected  them — Ralph  himself.  He  was  attack- 
ed by  what  Mrs.  Maddison  called  "  ridiculous  and 
inconvenient  scruples,"  as  to  whether  he  ought 
to  marry  when  his  health  was  so  uncertain. 
She  had  hardly  patience  to  argue  the  subject 
with  him,  and  when  she  had  spent  her  time  and 
breath  and  succeeded  in  convincing  him  of  its 
folly,  and  he  had  fallen  eagerly  into  all  her 
plans  and  imaginings  for  the  future,  he  would 
revert  to  these  tiresome  scruples. 

"  But  I  say,  mother,  I  wish  I  felt  sure  it  was 
all  right.  I've  a  great  mind  to  write  to  Meredith 
and  ask  what  he  thinks." 

"  What  on  earth  has  Dr.  Meredith  to  do 
with  it  ?  Is  he  the  keeper  of  your  conscience  ? 
Upon  my  word,  Ralph,  you  ought  to  be  man 
enough  to  judge  for  yourself." 

It  was  from  Ralph,  too,  that  the  opposition 
came  to  the  idea  of  hastening  the  wedding. 

"There's  no  need  for  such  hurry,"  he  said. 
"  I  won't  have  Dear  bothered.  It  shall  be  all 
just  as  she  likes." 

We  have  seen  that  when  Ralph  was  not  well 


262  DEAR. 

he  was  not  very  pleasant  company,  and  this  was 
the  first  time  his  mother  had  had  any  experi- 
ence of  this,  for  when  "  the  poor  dear  boy  "  was 
out  of  sorts  she  had  always  hitherto  left  him  to 
Duncan,  who  knew  just  how  to  manage  him.  I 
am  glad  to  think  that  Mrs.  Maddison  had  a  bad 
time  of  it  with  him  most  of  those  three  weeks. 
She  grew  seriously  anxious  about  his  health 
more  than  once,  and  once  she  actually  wrote  a 
telegram  to  summon  Duncan  back,  which  would 
have  seriously  complicated  her  arrangements, 
but  Ralph  was  better  again  and  the  telegraph 
form  was  torn  up. 

Strangely  enough  there  was  no  difficulty 
about  the  immediate  marriage  with  Dear ; 
indeed,  the  idea  seemed  almost  to  please  her. 
That  dazed  look,  which  the  people  noticed  on 
her  wedding-day,  had  settled  in  her  sweet  eyes, 
and  she  went  about  as  one  in  a  dream,  and  let 
my  lady  do  what  she  liked  with  her,  as  on  the 
wedding-day  she  let  Clarisse  dress  her  and 
arrange  her  hair,  without  a  word  either  of 
satisfaction  or  objection. 


A   MOTHER'S    DOING.  263 

"And  when  the  toilette  is  made,"  the  maid 
declared,  "  and  she  looks  better  than  she  has 
ever  done  in  her  life  before,  she  does  not  as 
much  as  give  one  little  look  in  her  glass,  but 
catches  up  that  dog,  who  never  ceases  to  growl 
at  me  from  the  foot  of  the  bed,  and  kisses  it, 
crumpling  the  chiffon  on  her  corsage.  Mon 
Dieu  !  these  English  !  " 

Through  the  dream  and  unreality  of  it  all, 
was  an  aching,  feverish  wish  in  Dear's  mind  to 
get  the  thing  done  past  all  recall  before — any 
one  came  back.  She  did  not  feel  as  if  any  ties 
except  those  irremediable  ones,  which  death 
alone  can  part,  could  stand  before  the  look  of 
Oliver  Meredith's  eyes.  She  would  like  the 
rivets  to  be  beaten  hard  of  the  chain  that  would 
bind  her  to  Ralph,  till  gracious  death  came  to 
set  her  free,  so  as  to  keep  her  from  crawling 
to  Oliver's  feet,  even  while  she  knew  him  to  be 
Mrs.  Maddison's  lover. 

"  If  you  take  my  advice,"  my  lady  said  to 
Ralph,  "you  will  leave  the  girl  alone.  Don't 
go  hanging  about  her,  it  will  only  disgust  her." 


264  DEAR. 

And  Ralph  followed  her  advice  and  kept 
away,  though  he  protested  that  if  Dear  cared 
for  him  so  little  as  that,  he  had  no  wish 
to  marry  her. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

CAUSE    OR    IMPEDIMENT. 

"  Should  I  love  her  as  well  if  she 
Had  given  her  word  to  a  thing  so  low  ? 
Shall  I  love  her  as  well  if  she 
Can  break  her  word,  were  it  even  for  me  ? 
I  trust  that  it  is  not  so."— Tennyson. 

"DEFORE  poor,  little  Will  Kemp  had  picked 
himself  out  of  the  gorse  bush  into  which 
Oliver  had  so  casually  tossed  him,  the  doctor 
had  crossed  the  field  and  gone  up  the  bit  of  lane 
that  led  to  the  village,  and  Duncan  came  puffing 
and  blowing  behind  him. 

The  church  lies  at  the  other  end  of  the  village, 
and  it  was  round  that  that  all  the  inhabitants 
of  Kingscombe  had  gathered ;  but,  as  Oliver 
turned  out  of  the  lane,  a  man  came  running, 
hatless   and   at   post     haste,    down    the   street, 

(265) 


266  DEAR. 

followed  closely  by  another,  and  at  the  same 
moment  the  bells,  which  had  been  making  such 
a  noisy  proclamation  of  the  wedding,  came  to 
an  abrupt  silence. 

The  first  man  passed  Dr.  Meredith  in  his 
hurry  without  recognizing  him,  but  the  second 
stopped  suddenly  at  sight  of  him,  and  shouted 
to  the  man  in  front  as  well  as  his  breathless 
condition  would  allow,  "  Hi  there  !  Stop,  can't 
you  now  !  'Tain't  no  use  fetching  Dr.  Carston, 
here's  the  doctor  and  Muster  Duncan,  as  sure  as 
life  !  Thank  the  Lord  as  you've  come  ! "  the 
man  continued. 

But  Oliver  did  not  wait  to  hear  more,  but 
pushed  his  way  through  the  crowd  round  the 
churchyard  gate  to  where  an  awe-stricken  group 
surrounded  Ralph's  prostrate  form,  Ralph  lying 
stiff  and  rigid  and  senseless,  with  open,  fixed 
eyes  glazed  and  staring,  while  by  his  side  knelt 
Dear,  with  a  scared,  white  face,  trying  to  loosen 
his  collar  and  raise  his  head  from  the  turf  on 
which  it  lay. 

"  For  God's   sake   take   her   away ! "     Oliver 


CAUSE   OR   IMPEDIMENT.  267 

heard  somebody  saying — was  it  his  own  voice  ? 
— and  then  in  answer  to  an  indistinct  murmur 
among  the  bystanders  the  same  voice  said, 
"  Dead  ?  Fools  !  it's  no  such  thing.  It's  a  fit. 
Let  Duncan  come  to  him,  can't  you  ?  " 

Oliver  could  not  clearly  remember  what  hap- 
pened then  till  he  was  walking  towards  the 
Manor  by  the  side  of  a  shutter  carried  by  four 
of  the  Kingscombe  men,  and  bearing  that 
strangely-rigid  form  which  was  Ralph  Mad- 
dison,  Dear's  bridegroom.  Oliver  had  had  no 
time  to  think  or  understand  what  it  all  meant, 
it  seemed  as  if  his  mind  shrank  from  grasping 
the  situation,  fought  against  it,  struggled  to  put 
it  away  from  him,  occupied  itself  nervously  with 
little  details,  directing  the  men,  steadying  the 
shutter,  drilling  the  bearers  into  walking  in  step. 
He  noticed  all  sorts  of  trifles,  filling  his  mind 
with  them  as  if  to  crowd  out  the  dread  reality, 
he  occupied  himself  for  some  minutes  with  a 
green  stain  on  Ralph's  coat  and  the  wonder  if  it 
would  brush  off,  and  then  got  a  certain  amount 
of  superficial  amusement  from  noticing  that   the 


268  DEAR. 

shutter  was  one  from  the  Bush,  and  had  a  score 
chalked  on  it,  p's  and  q's  in  old-world  fashion, 
and  he  wondered  whose  score  it  might  be,  and 
whether  some  of  it  might  be  rubbed  off  in  the 
journey. 

He  was  conscious,  as  the  sad  procession  turned 
off  along  the  footpath  through  the  park,  that  a 
carriage  passed  behind  them,  a  carriage  with 
white  favors  on  the  horses'  heads.  He  knew 
that  my  lady  was  in  it,  from  the  undisciplined 
eyes  of  two  of  the  bearers  looking  round,  and 
one  of  them,  with  inbred  respect  for  "the 
quality,"  making  an  ineffectual  effort  to  touch 
his  hat.  And  he  felt  that  Dear  was  with  her, 
though  he  would  not  let  his  sensations  form 
themselves  into  thoughts. 

He  was  conscious  too  of  her  presence  as  they 
carried  Ralph  in  through  the  hall  and  up  the 
staircase.  There  were  others  there  too,  no  doubt 
Mrs.  Maddison  among  them,  but  of  her  he  had 
no  thought  or  consciousness  just  then,  though 
she  drew  back  as  he  passed  her,  with  the  feeling 
that  his  accusing  eye  was  seeking  her. 


CAUSE   OR   IMPEDIMENT.  269 

I  do  not  think  any  of  them  rightly  knew  how 
that  strange  long  day  went  by ;  perhaps  it 
seemed  the  longest  to  the  two  who  sat  in  the 
library  and  heard  the  movements  in  the  room 
up-stairs,  or  listened  to  the  silence  up  there,  till 
imaginary  noises  sounded  in  their  ears,  and  the 
fall  of  a  cinder  on  the  hearth  made  them  jump 
like  the  report  of  a  gun. 

Dear  sat  in  the  window  perfectly  still,  looking 
out  at  the  September  day  which  had  clouded  to 
soft  gloom.  She  had  tried  to  follow  when  they 
carried  Ralph  up-stairs,  but  had  been  detained, 
and  somewhat  sharply  told  that  it  was  better  to 
leave  him  to  Duncan,  who  knew  how  to  treat 
him,  and  she  had  passively  obeyed. 

My  lady  sat  by  the  fire  holding  up  a  novel 
before  her  face,  that  same  novel  that  Dear  had 
been  reading  to  Ralph,  but  the  plot  or  style 
mattered  as  little  to  the  reader  now  as  it  had 
done  then,  though  she  might  have  been  learning 
that  mawkish  conversation  by  heart,  so  long  did 
she  hold  it  before  her  eyes  without  turning  the 
page. 


270  DEAR. 

The  only  incident  that  interrupted  the  deadly 
quiet  of  that  afternoon  was  the  arrival  of  Dan, 
who  had  been  tied  up  since  the  morning,  and, 
the  moment  he  was  set  free,  went  straight  as  an 
arrow  from  a  bow  to  the  Manor,  and  made  his 
presence  known  with  voice  and  nails  outside  the 
door.  Dan  never  scratched  in  vain  at  any  door 
at  the  vicarage  ;  even  the  Vicar  would  get  up 
from  his  sermon  and  let  him  in  ;  and  Patty,  at  a 
critical  moment  in  cooking,  would  turn  with 
perhaps  a  "  Drat  that  dog  !  "  in  response  to  his 
somewhat  peremptory  summons. 

So  Dear  rose  and  went  to  the  door,  and 
knowing  what  boisterous  delight  would  be 
shown  at  sight  of  her,  she  turned  to  my  lady, 
absorbed  in  her  novel  by  the  fire,  and  said,  "  I 
will  go  into  the  garden.  Please  let  me  know  if 
I  am  wanted." 

Perhaps  from  the  room  above  the  library 
some  one  might  have  seen  the  slight  girlish 
figure  going  down  the  terrace  steps,  with  Dan  in 
most  inappropriate  and  uproarious  spirits,  cur- 
vetting and   dancing  about   her,  flying  round  in 


CAUSE  OR   IMPEDIMENT.  271 

the  air  and  making  little  pretence  dashes  at  her 
hands  and  dress.  And  perhaps  this  spectator  of 
Dan's  gambols  was  only  waiting  for  Dear  to  go 
out  to  come  down-stairs,  for  a  minute  or  two 
later  the  library  door  opened  and  Oliver  Meredith 
came  in,  and  Mrs.  Maddison  let  the  novel  fall 
out  of  her  cold  hand  and  felt  that  the  moment 
of  explanation  had  come.  I  believe  that  in  that 
moment  if  Mrs.  Maddison  had  had  it  in  her 
power  to  recall  the  past  three  weeks,  she  would 
gladly  have  done  so.  There  is  a  moment  with 
every  criminal  when  he  would  give  the  world  to 
retrieve  what  he  has  done,  but  it  mostly  comes 
too  late,  when  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  done 
than  to  cast  down  the  pieces  of  silver  in  the 
temple  and  depart  and  hang  himself. 

"  How  is  he  ?  "  she  asked  faintly.  There  was 
something  in  the  look  of  Oliver's  face,  quiet  and 
self-controlled  as  it  was,  that  put  to  flight  all  the 
arguments  she  had  been  calling  to  her  aid  as  she 
sat  holding  the  novel  before  her  face. 

"  Very  ill,"  he  answered  ;  "  he  has  been  terribly 
convulsed  all  the  afternoon,  far  worse,  Duncan 


272  DEAR. 

says,  than  he  has  ever  seen  him  before.  He  is 
quieter  now,  but  I  have  promised  to  go  back 
soon.  I  do  not  know  if  it  would  be  any  use  to 
have  further  medical  advice,  for  there  is,  unfortu- 
nately, so  little  to  be  done  in  these  cases  of 
epilepsy  ;  but  there  is  Dr.  Carston  at  Cheriton,  or 
we  might  telegraph  to  his  doctor  in  London  who 
has  treated  him  before — " 

"No,  no  ; "  she  interrupted  eagerly  ;  "  I  have 
every  confidence  in  your  treatment." 

He  turned  away  impatiently. 

"  If  he  recovers — "  he  began,  but  she  broke  in 
again,  "  You  are  trying  to  frighten  me  ;  it  is  cruel, 
cruel  of  you  !  He  is  not  so  bad  as  that.  He  will 
recover  as  he  has  before.  He  has  often  had  these 
fits  and  got  over  them.  It  is  cruel  to  frighten 
me  like  this,  you  forget  that  I  am  his  mother." 

"  No,"  Oliver  said,  "  I  wish  I  could  forget  that 
you,  his  mother,  will  be  responsible  for  his  death 
if  he  dies  in  one  of  these  fits,  as  is  more  than 
likely ;  responsible  too  if  he  survives,  shattered 
in  mind  and  body,  which  will  be  worse  even 
than  death." 


CAUSE   OR  IMPEDIMENT.  273 

"  Don't !  "  she  sobbed,  "  don't !  How  am  I 
responsible  ? " 

"  Ralph  was  not  well  Duncan  said  before  he 
left,  and  he  was  unwilling  to  go  but  you  urged  his 
doing  so.  The  only  way  of  averting  these  fits, 
experience  has  shown,  is  by  quiet,  and  avoid- 
ing all  agitation,  and  these  three  weeks  must 
have  been  full  of  excitement  and  agitation  for 
him." 

"  How  could  I  help  it  ?  His  heart  was  set  on 
marrying  this  girl."  (Ah!  she  could  sting  him 
back,  he  winced  at  the  mention  of  her !) 

"  Was  it  ? "  he  said ;  "  then  I  was  strangely 
mistaken  in  him.  He  was  a  good,  young  fellow, 
honest  and  right  feeling,  though  he  was  not  so 
strong-minded  as  some,  and  it  was  not  long 
before  I  went  away  that  he  was  talking  of  mar- 
riage and  saying  that  a  man  with  his  weak 
health  (poor  fellow  !)  ought  not  to  think  of  it, 
and  I  was  glad  to  feel  that  he  thought  so  hon- 
orably about  it.  I  don't  blame  him  in  the 
matter." 

"  But  you  do  me." 
18 


274  DEAR. 

Just  then  Dear  passed  along  the  terrace  out- 
side, a  small,  drooping,  white  figure,  pacing 
slowly  along,  with  Dan,  who  had  got  over  his 
first  exuberant  joy  at  finding  his  mistress,  and 
to  whom  some  of  her  unhappiness  had  com- 
municated itself,  following  her  in  much 
depression. 

"  Blame  you  ?  "  he  said.  "  Do  you  realise 
what  you  have  done  in  letting — but  it  must 
have  been  more  than  that,  in  urging  that  poor 
girl  to  marry  your  son,  when  you  knew  him  to 
be  subject  to  these  fits,  every  one  of  which 
weakened  him  mind  and  body." 

"  She  did  it  with  her  eyes  open  ;  she  knew  he 
was  an  invalid." 

"  Did  she  know  how  ?  It  was  always  kept  a 
profound  secret.  Duncan  says  that  not  even 
Mrs.  Lynch  or  the  servants  in  the  house  really 
knew  what  was  the  matter  with  him." 

"  She  was  fond  of  Ralph.  And  besides,  inno- 
cent as  she  seems,  she  was  sharp  enough  to  see 
the  advantages  to  be  gained.  It  appears  that 
her  father  is  in  money  difficulties,  and  Ralph  is 


CAUSE   OR    IMPEDIMENT.  275 

going  to  send  that  brother  of  hers  to  Cam- 
bridge— " 

"And  that  was  the  bribe,  was  it?  Oh,  poor 
little  girl !  if  only  I  had  been  here  !  if  only  I 
had  been  here !  " 

"  Yes  that  is  the  root  of  all  this  righteous 
indignation ! "  Mrs.  Maddison's  temper  was 
getting  the  better  of  her  now.  "Why  don't 
you  speak  the  truth  ?  You  loved  this  girl 
yourself,  and  that  is  why  you  are  so  fierce 
with  me  for  not  having  prevented  the  mar- 
riage. How  was  I  to  know  that  you  loved  the 
girl?" 

She  had  stung  him  now  to  the  very  quick, 
and  she  quailed  before  his  eyes  as  he  turned  to 
her.  He  caught  his  breath  before  he  spoke,  as 
if  half-choked  by  his  emotion. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I  will  speak  the  truth.  I 
loved  Dear  Hume  better  than  my  life  itself — 
I  love  her  now.  I  could  almost  thank  you  for 
giving  me  an  opportunity  of  saying  it  even  to 
you  just  once  before  I  lock  it  out  of  sight  for 
ever,  for   I    can    never   put    it    away  from    me 


276  DEAR. 

though  it  is  love  for  another  man's  wife,  though 
it  would  be  an  insult  to  speak  of  it  to  her. 
Yes,  I  love  her.     Oh,  my  God  !  I  love  her." 

He  had  sunk  into  a  chair  and  covered  his 
face  with  his  hands. 

Surely  Mrs.  Maddison  was  punished,  for  as 
much  as  in  her  nature  lay,  she  loved  this  man, 
and  the  very  means  she  had  used  to  bring 
him  nearer  to  her,  had  set  them  hopelessly 
apart,  worlds  apart,  as  far  apart  as  heaven  is 
from  hell. 

It  was  getting  dusk  in  the  library,  and  outside 
on  the  terrace  a  damp  fog  was  gathering,  where 
passed  and  re-passed  the  sad,  little,  white  figure 
like  a  ghost,  a  ghost  of  warm  July  days  and 
roses  and  sunshine  and  love  and  hope. 

A  movement  in  the  room  above  roused  Oliver 
and  he  got  up. 

"  You  had  better  tell  her,"  he  said,  "  to  go 
home  to  her  father.  If  Ralph  is  better,  or — 
worse,  she  shall  be  sent  for,  but  at  present  she 
can  do  no  good,  and  she  must  not  see  him  as  he 
looks  now." 


CAUSE   OF  IMPEDIMENT.  277 

And  then  with  sudden  increase  of  haste  he 
went,  for,  as  he  spoke,  Dear  was  coming  to- 
wards the  house  and  Clive  was  with  her.  In 
one  of  her  pacings  on  the  terrace  she  had 
become  conscious  of  some  one  standing  watch- 
ing her  from  the  rose  garden,  damp  and  sodden 
and  dreary  now,  out  of  all  recognition  of  the 
radiance  and  color  and  perfume  of  June.  Dan 
also  perceived  the  newcomer,  and  pricked  his 
ears  and  then  wagged  his  tail  in  greeting  of  a 
friend. 

"  Clive,"  Dear  said  ;  "  Clive,  is  it  you  ? " 

And  then  he  came  forward  hesitatingly. 

"  I  oughtn't  to  come  bothering  you,  Dear,  and 
I  wouldn't  have  come  into  the  house  if  I  hadn't 
seen  you  out  here,  and  I  wasn't  sure  for  a 
minute  if  it  was  you  till  I  saw  Dan.  Oh,  Dear, 
I'm  so  awfully  sorry  !  Of  course  you're  quite 
taken  up  with  poor  Ralph's  illness,  and  I  know 
you  couldn't  leave  him  to  come  home,  even  for 
ten  minutes.  But  father  is  so  strange.  I  think 
I've  got  frightened  and  so  has  Patty.  He  seems 
to  have  forgotten  all  about  the  wedding,  and  he 


27%  DEA.R. 

wouldn't  have  tea  till  you  came  in,  and  he  keeps 
going  to  the  window  to  see  if  you  are  coming. 
He  is  standing  there  now,  Dear,  looking  out — 
and  I  can't  bear  it.  I've  told  him  ever  so  many 
times  that  you  are  married  and  won't  come 
back  just  yet,  and  he  says,  'Yes,  yes,  of  course  ! 
of  course  !  to  be  sure,'  and  sits  down  again. 
But  in  a  minute  he  has  forgotten  and  goes  to 
the  window  again,  saying,  '  She  will  soon  be  in. 
What  can  be  keeping  her  ? '  " 

"I  will  come,"  Dear  said.  "I  am  not  wanted 
here." 

And  then  she  went  quickly  towards  the 
house,  and  Oliver  seeing  her  coming,  retreated 
to  Ralph's  room. 

"Can  you  tell  me,  "  she  asked  timidly  of  the 
motionless  figure  with  averted  face  that  still  sat 
in  the  library,  "  how  Ralph  is  now  ?  and  if  I  can 
be  of  any  help  up  in  his  room  ? " 

The  time  of  tenderness  and  caressing  between 
these  two  seemed  years  ago,  an  impossible  state 
of  affairs  that  could  never  be  renewed.  What 
in  other  circumstances  must  have  brought  them 


CAUSE   OR   IMPEDIMENT.  279 

together,  clinging  close,  heart  to  heart,  in  a 
common  sorrow,  agonized  mother,  forlorn  young 
wife,  had  set  these  two  far  apart,  beyond  even 
outward  appearance  of  sympathy  and  love. 

Mrs.  Maddison  did  not  turn  her  head,  and 
her  voice  sounded  thin  and  hard. 

"  I  have  just  heard,"  she  said,  "  that  he  is  no 
better,  and  perfect  quiet  is  imperative.  I  am 
going  to  my  room,  and  if  you  would  prefer  to 
return  home,  I  will  give  orders  that  you  shall  be 
sent  for  directly  there  is  any  change." 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  go  to  my  father,"  Dear 
answered  ;  "  but  can  I  do  nothing  for  you  ?  "  she 
added  hesitatingly. 

There  was  something  so  lonely  in  the  look  of 
that  stiffly-turned-away  figure  which,  in  spite  of 
its  elegant  dress,  in  spite  of  the  soft  firelight 
which  deals  tenderly  with  the  marks  of  age, 
looked  old  and  desolate,  that  the  girl,  sad  and 
sorehearted  as  she  was  herself,  could  not  bear 
to  go  without  some  kind  word,  and  she  made  a 
step  nearer,  but  was  at  once  repelled  by  the 
frosty  answer — 


280  DEAR. 

"  For  me  ?  Thanks,  nov  Clarisse  will  attend 
to  me." 

And  Dear  turned  away  chilled  and  repulsed. 

In  the  hall  Duncan  was  waiting  for  her — 
kind,  fussy  old  Duncan,  with  his  face  an  odd 
mixture  of  conflicting  emotions,  anxiety,  pity 
and  indignation. 

"  Run  home,  Missy,  there's  a  good,  little  girl. 
Oh,  bless  my  stars  !  I  don't  know  what  I'm 
saying.  But  it's  not  a  bit  of  good  your  stopping 
here.  He's  no  better,  nor  won't  be  just  yet. 
You  shall  be  the  first  to  know  if — when  he's 
better.  There  !  I  can't  trust  myself  to  speak  of 
this  day's  work,  but  if  I  know  you're  safe  at 
home,  I'll  not  feel  quite  so  much  like  murdering 
somebody." 

And  the  old  man  wrapped  a  shawl  round  her 
with  trembling  hands,  and  went  off  using,  I  am 
afraid,  strong  language  as  he  went. 

"  Run  on,  Clive ;  run  on  as  fast  as  you  can 
and  tell  him  I'm  coming." 

But  Dear  was  not  far  behind,  and  while  Clive 
was  reassuring  the  sad,  old  face  watching  at  the 


CAUSE   OR   IMPEDIMENT.  28 1 

window,  with  dim  eyes  peering  out  into  the 
mist  and  darkness,  she  ran  up  into  her  little 
bedroom,  plain  and  shabby,  but  dear  to  her  from 
many  associations  of  sweet,  simple  girlhood. 
There  stood  the  modest,  little  trunk  containing 
the  hasty  trousseau  ("All  that  can  be  arranged 
afterwards,"  Mrs.  Maddison  had  said),  and  the 
room  still  bore  the  traces  of  that  wedding 
toilette  over  which  Mdlle.  Clarisse  had  pre- 
sided. 

There  was  a  wonderful  feeling  of  relief  in 
being  back  there,  and  in  taking  off  the  white 
dress,  limp  and  clinging  from  the  damp  mist, 
and  in  pulling  out  hairpins  and  shaking  down 
curls  and  rolls  and  plaits,  and  twisting  her  hair 
into  the  old,  comfortable  coil,  and  in  putting  on 
the  shabby,  old  dress,  thrown  contemptuously 
down  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  as  a  garment  never 
likely  to  be  worn  again  by  the  young  mistress 
of  Kingscombe  Manor. 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment  over  the  wedding- 
ring,  and  half  drew  it  off  the  finger  where  it 
looked  so  new  and  shining:  and  unnatural,  but 


282  DEAR. 

put  it  back  with  a  sigh  and  went  down-stairs, 
just  the  same  Dear  that  had  come  in  hundreds 
of  times  before,  to  where  the  old  father  sat 
awaiting  her. 

"  Here  I  am,    father,"  she  said.     "  Will   you 
come  and  have  tea  ?  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

PARTING. 

"  Comfort  her,  comfort  her,  all  things  good, 

While  I  am  over  the  sea ; 
Let  me  and  my  passionate  love  go  by, 
But  speak  to  her  all  things  holy  and  high 

Whatever  happen  to  me."  — Tennyson. 

A  WEEK  has  passed  since  that  ill-fated 
wedding-day,  and  still  Ralph  Maddison  lies  in 
that  room  at  the  Manor,  and  still  Dear  is  with  her 
father  at  home,  waiting  for  the  summons  which 
they  have  promised  to  send  her  if  Ralph  is 
better  or  worse  ;  better,  if  he  recovers  conscious- 
ness and  asks  for  her  ;  worse,  if  the  death  they 
had  spoken  of  in  the  marriage  service  as  the 
only  means  of  parting  them,  had  set  them  free 
again  so  soon. 

It   never   occurred    to    her   mind    that   there 

(283) 


284  DEAR. 

could  be  any  other  alternative,  that  it  was 
possible  for  him  not  to  be  better  and  yet  not 
to  die,  but  to  live  on  with  his  mind  hopelessly 
enfeebled,  with  memory  and  sense  gone;  but 
this  terrible  prospect  for  poor  Ralph  Maddison 
became  more  and  more  clear  and  certain  as 
the  days  went  on,  to  those  who  watched  by  his 
bedside.  Other  medical  advice  was  called  in ; 
Dr.  Carston  from  Cheriton  came  with  all  the 
self-importance  of  a  country  town  doctor  ;  and 
a  specialist  from  London,  at  a  fabulous  fee,  who 
could  do  nothing  but  confirm  Dr.  Meredith's 
gloomy  forebodings. 

It  was  when  this  great  man  was  gone  that 
Oliver  Meredith  came  down  and  asked  to  see 
Mrs.  Maddison.  They  had  met  occasionally 
since  he  had  confessed  his  love  for  Dear  to  her, 
but  their  interviews  had  been  of  a  merely 
formal  character — bulletins  of  Ralph's  state, 
or  inquiries  as  to  her  wishes  about  further 
advice. 

The  London  doctor  had  been  much  im- 
pressed  by  Mrs.   Maddison,    and   the   dignified 


PARTING.  285 

self-control  with  which  she  received  the  verdict, 
which  must  have  been  infinitely  painful  to  any 
mother's  heart,  and  this  an  only  son,  and  heir 
to  such  a  fine  estate,  and  such  a  good-looking 
young  fellow  as  he  must  have  been.  The 
doctor  was  used  to  many  sad  things  in  the 
course  of  his  professional  experience,  but  this 
seemed  one  of  the  most  deplorable,  and,  per- 
haps, after  the  pity  in  his  kind  eyes,  Oliver's 
may  have  seemed  hard  and  cruel  as  he  came 
into  the  room,  and  waited  without  a  word  while 
she  pressed  her  cobweb  handkerchief  to  her 
eyes  and  sobbed — 

"  My  poor  boy  !  My  poor  Ralph  !  " 
I  do  not  think  he  gave  her  credit  for  the 
suffering  she  really  felt.  If  only  she  had  been 
a  little  less  elegant  in  her  grief — if  she  had 
dabbed  her  eyes  less  carefully  and  sobbed  less 
musically — he  might  have  believed  in  her  and 
gone  on,  perhaps,  to  pity  her ;  and  pity,  we 
know,  is  akin  to  love ;  but  the  small  affectations 
he  detected  blinded  his  eyes  to  the  real  grief 
that  was  mixed  with  them,  and   he  waited  with 


286  DEAR. 

a  perfectly  unmoved  face  till  she  had  recovered 
her  composure. 

"  Why  did  you  wish  to  see  me  ? "  she  asked 
at  last. 

"  I  wanted  to  know  your  programme,"  he 
answered. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? " 

"  I  want  to  know  what  you  propose  to  do  ? " 

"About  what?" 

"  About  Ralph  and— his  wife  ?  " 

"It  is  most  deplorable,"  she  said.  "I  know 
now  that  the  marriage  was  most  ill-advised, 
and  I  am  sincerely  sorry  for  the  poor  girl, 
and  I  will  do  all  in  my  power  to  alleviate  her 
position.  Nothing  that  money  can  do  shall 
be  spared  to  make  it  easier  for  her.  Of  course 
there  will  be  Duncan.  I  am  sure  he  will  not 
leave  him,  and  if  other  attendants  are  needed 
they  can  easily  be  got.  She  will  have  every- 
thing just  as  she  likes  here  ;  I  shall  not  interfere 
in  any  way.  Oh,  Oliver,  "  she  interrupted  her- 
self, for  his  silence  made  her  think  he  was 
listening   with  approval,  "  I  am   not   so  bad  as 


PARTING.  287 

you  think  me.  I  will  do  anything  in  my  power 
in  the  way  of  reparation  to  regain  your  good 
opinion." 

"  Excuse  me,"  he  said,  and  his  voice  was 
hard,  and  seemed  to  cut  like  a  knife  ;  "  excuse 
me,  let  us  keep  to  the  point.  If  I  understand 
you  rightly,  you  mean  to  leave  your  son  here 
with  his  wife.  I  don't  think  you  have  seen 
him,  have  you  ?  I  don't  think  you  quite  realise 
the  state  he  is  in,  and,  unhappily,  likely  to 
continue  in  ? " 

"  There  will  be  Duncan,"  she  said. 

"  No,  there  will  not  be  Duncan.  I  have  been 
talking  to  him.  He  used  stronger  language 
than  I  should  care  to  repeat  in  speaking  of 
what  has  been  done,  and  he  declares  that  if 
this  mockery  of  a  marriage  is  to  hold  good,  and 
that  poor  girl's  young  life  is  to  be'  sacrificed  to 
the  poor,  imbecile  creature  that  Ralph — " 

"  Don't  !  for  pity's  sake,  don't  !  " 

It  was  real  now  ;  there  was  no  pretence  or 
elegance  about  her  now,  and  he  felt  at  once 
like  a  brute. 


288  DEAR. 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  unnecessarily  hard," 
he  said ;  "  but  Duncan  declares  he  will  not 
remain  a  day  with  Ralph  under  such  circum- 
stances." 

"  But  what  can  be  done  ?  " 

"  I  have  thought  of  a  plan,"  he  said,  "  and 
it  is  this.  You  know  I  have  accepted  an  ap- 
pointment at  Berlin  which  will  keep  me  there 
for  two  years,  and  perhaps  longer.  If  you 
approve,  I  will  take  Ralph  with  me.  Duncan 
will  go  too,  and  I  need  not  assure  you  that 
every  care  and  attention  shall  be  given  to  poor 
Ralph." 

Mrs.  Maddison's  lips  tightened  to  a  hard 
little  smile.  "A  charming  plan.  Dr.  Meredith, 
I  must  say !  and  Mrs.  Ralph  will,  no  doubt, 
share  all  the  care  and  attention  that  you  will 
lavish  on  her  husband." 

"  Hush  !  "  he  said.  "  I  will  not  endure  any 
insolence  to  her.  It  is  only  for  her  sake  I  am 
offering  to  do  what  will  tie  and  hamper  me  in 
every  way.  I  will  only  do  it  on  condition  that 
she  does  not  even  know  where  we  are,  that  it 


PARTING.  28g 

shall  be  put  out  of  her  power  ever  to  find  us 
out,  lest  in  some  sudden  mistaken  sense  of 
duty  or  self-sacrifice  she  should  follow  Ralph." 

"And  the  girl?" 

"  Mrs.  Maddison  will  remain  with  her  father 
and,  mind  you !  every  part  of  the  bargain  must 
be  carried  out  to  the  letter.  Ample  means  must 
be  provided  for  Clive's  career  at  Cambridge, 
plenty  to  relieve  any  money  difficulties  her 
father  may  have,  sufficient  to  support  her  dignity 
in  the  eyes  of  the  people  here  ;  for  there  must 
be  no  mistake  about  it,  she  must  be  recognized 
as  Mrs.  Maddison,  your  son's  wife,  before  all 
the  world.  The  people  here  are  all  too  fond 
of  her  to  think  any  harm  of  her  for  a  moment, 
but  others  might  question  and  make  a  talk 
about  her." 

"What  can  we  say  about  it  ? " 

He  was  silent  a  minute,  thinking  of  clear  eyes 
that  looked  so  straight  and  earnestly  at  you 
as  if  untruth  were  impossible,  prevarication  and 
deceit  undreamt  of.  With  Dear  there  was  no 
question  what  to  say  on  any  subject. 
l9 


290  DEAR. 

"  I  think  it  might  be  safest  in  this  case  to 
speak  the  truth,"  he  said. 

"  But  will  she  agree  to  it  ?  " 

"  Ah !  that  I  cannot  tell. 

Would  she  feel  bound,  he  asked  himself,  by 
that  marriage  bond  to  have  and  to  hold  that 
poor  imbecile  creature,  that  a  few  days  ago  had 
been  kindly,  warm-hearted  Ralph  Maddison — 
never  very  strong-minded  or  quick-witted,  but 
not  far  below  the  average  in  intelligence  and 
sense ;  now,  in  intervals  of  the  fits,  playing 
childishly  with  his  fingers,  and  whimpering  at 
a  word  from  Duncan,  or  laughing  in  meaning- 
less, unreasonable  mirth.  Perhaps  to  Dear  it 
would  seem  all  the  more  imperative  to  keep 
that  marriage  vow,  because  the  bright  alterna- 
tives had  all  been  done  away  at  one  stroke,  and 
it  was  only  for  worse  and  not  for  better ;  for 
poorer,  not  for  richer  ;  in  sickness,  not  in  health, 
that  she  was  to  love,  cherish,  and  obey  Ralph 
Maddison  till  death  did  them  part. 

While  he  thought^  Mrs.  Maddison  too  was 
deeply    considering   the   plan    Oliver   had   pro- 


PARTING.  291 

posed.  If  Dear  would  agree  to  stop  with  her 
father,  and  all  intercourse  between  her  and 
Oliver  were  cut  off  entirely,  while,  on  Ralph's 
account,  correspondence  must  be  frequent  be- 
tween herself  and  Oliver,  and  occasional  personal 
interviews  necessary,  who  could  tell  but  what 
the  unaccountable  fascination  the  girl  had  over 
him  might  die  away  from  force  of  distance  and 
hopelessness,  and  his  indignation  against  herself 
die  away  with  it,  and  the  old  feeling  return  ? 

But  Dear,  she  felt  sure,  would  never  consent, 
and  Mrs.  Maddison  did  not  know  what  argu- 
ments she  could  bring  forward  to  separate  the 
two  whom  she  had  so  lately  moved  heaven  and 
earth  to  bring  together. 

"  You  must  tell  her  what  is  proposed,"  she 
said.     "  See,  there  she  is." 

For  just  then  Dear  came  up  the  terrace  steps, 
just  as  in  the  old  golden  summer  days  she  used 
to  do  (but  oh  !  the  difference) ;  and  now,  as  then, 
Oliver  went  out  to  meet  her. 

It  was  the  first  time  they  had  met  face  to  face 
since  they  parted  under  the  portico,  and  he  drove 


292  DEAR. 

away  with  that  strange  feeling  of  apprehension 
and  disquiet  in  his  heart  which  after  events  had 
so  fully  justified.  He  knew  that  Mrs.  Maddison 
was  watching  the  meeting  lynx-eyed  from  the 
library.  What  did  it  matter  ?  The  whole  world 
might  look  on  if  it  liked.  It  was  just  here  he 
had  first  seen  her  that  first  evening  at  Kings- 
combe,  when,  half  dozing,  half  thinking,  he  had 
been  roused  by  Ralph's  voice,  and  had  seen 
Dear's  eyes,  soft  and  radiant,  looking  down  at 
him  from  the  steps  above,  and  now  he  was  come 
to  urge  on  her  a  plan  that  would  part  them  for 
ever. 

Mrs.  Maddison  could  see  that  they  had  not 
even  shaken  hands  when  they  met.  How  could 
he  trust  himself  to  take  that  hand  he  had  held 
that  afternoon  in  the  orchard  ?  She  could  see 
that  they  did  not  stand  near  together  as  they 
talked.  How  could  he  have  helped  catching 
her  in  his  arms  unless  that  couple  of  feet  of 
paving-stone  and  gravel  had  separated  them  ? 
Mrs.  Maddison  noticed  that  he  only  once  or 
twice  turned  and  looked  at  Dear.     How  could 


PARTING.  293 

he  have  controlled  the  burning  words  of  love 
for  her  if  their  eyes  had  met  often  ? 

He  told  her  very  gently  what  the  London 
doctor  had  said  about  Ralph,  and  how  his  own 
medical  experience,  and  that  of  Dr.  Carston, 
forced  them  to  coincide  in  the  sad  belief  that 
though  he  might  recover  bodily  strength  to 
some  degree,  his  mind  would  never  recover  the 
shock  of  those  violent  fits,  and  most  likely  would 
weaken  still  more  as  time  went  on. 

She  listened  quite  quietly,  with  great  mournful 
eyes  fixed  on  the  dim  blue  distance,  and  a 
tender  sadness  on  her  lips.  The  bitter  indig- 
nation seemed  to  die  out  when  he  suffered 
himself  to  look  at  her,  and  the  burning  wish 
to  punish  the  author  of  all  the  trouble,  and  in 
their  stead  was  only  pity  and  the  longing  wish 
to  do  all  he  could  to  help  and  alleviate.  "  Bitter- 
ness and  wrath  and  anger  and  clamor  and 
evil-speaking  with  all  malice"  seemed  to  be  put 
away  by  this  strong,  pure,  human  love  of  his 
as  they  are  by  the  Divine,  and  kindness,  tender- 
heartedness and  forgiveness  to  take  their  place. 


294  DEAR. 

"  Has  he  asked  for  me  ? "  she  said. 

"  No ;  and  I  think  it  is  doubtful  if  he  recog- 
nizes either  of  us,  though  Duncan,  good  soul ! 
likes  to  think  he  knows  him  and  misses  him 
when  he  leaves  the  bedside,  and  I  wish  I  could 
think  so  too." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  do,"  Dear  said,  and 
for  the  first  time  there  was  a  pitiful,  little  shake 
in  her  voice,  and  a  quiver  in  the  quiet,  little  face. 

"  I  am  sure  I  ought  to  be  with  Ralph,  nursing 
and  caring  for  him,  but  my  father  seems  to 
want  me  so  much,  I  don't  think  I  could  leave 
him.  I  know  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  this 
before.  It  was  very  wrong  of  me,  but "  (this 
very  softly)  "  I  think  I  hardly  knew  what  I  was 
doing." 

Then  for  a  moment  their  eyes  met,  and  it 
seemed  as  if  the  passionate  pity  in  his  heart 
must  overcome  his   self  control. 

"Dear,"  he  said.  It  was  the  same  voice  that 
had  spoken  a  month  ago  in  the  orchard  ;  the 
intervening  weeks  of  separation  and  bitter 
trouble   had    vanished,    and    the    long-delayed 


PARTING.  295 

words  rushed  tumultuously  to  his  lips.  But  it 
was  only  for  a  second,  and  then  the  hand  he 
had  stretched  out  to  her,  fell  to  his  side,  the 
words  died  on  his  lips,  and  Mrs.  Maddison, 
from  the  library  window,  saw  nothing  but  a 
sudden  movement,  interrupting  for  a  moment 
the  calm  of  an  apparently  very  unemotional 
conversation,  which  immediately  resumed  its 
quiet  course,  and  was  no  more  disturbed  till 
they  parted,  ten  minutes  later,  without  even 
shaking  hands,  without  any  tender  last  word, 
without  even  a  look  back  at  one  another  as  Dear 
went  down  the  terrace  steps  and  Oliver  came 
into  the  house. 

"I  did  not  know,"  she  had  said,  in  answer  to 
that  one  word.     "  I  did  not  know." 

And  this  was  all  the  explanation  they  ever 
had,  but  somehow  in  years  to  come,  Oliver 
found  much  comfort  from  those  words.  "  I  did 
not  know."  They  might,  of  course,  have  meant 
that  she  did  not  know  of  Ralph's  tendency,  or 
that  she  did  not  know  how  impossible  it  would 
be   to   leave   her   father,   but  he  knew  that   it 


296  DEA.R. 

meant,  "  I  did  not  know  you  loved  me,"  and  he 
found  comfort  in  them. 

That  word  of  his  too,  or  perhaps  the  tone  of 
it,  had  swept  away  from  Dear's  mind  all  belief 
in  the  lie  Mrs.  Maddison  had  spoken  ;  she  never 
thought  again  after  that  that  it  was  possible 
that  he  and  my  lady  could  ever  be  more  to  one 
another  than  friends,  even  if  that.  So  the 
explanation,  short  as  it  was,  was  more  satis- 
factory than  many  long-winded,  diffuse  explana- 
tions, which  as  often  as  not  only  make  things 
worse,  and  widen  the  breach  they  are  meant  to 
close. 

He  told  her  of  the  plan  that  was  proposed 
for  Ralph  to  go  abroad  under  his  care,  putting 
entirely  out  of  sight  any  sacrifice  on  his  own 
part  in  the  matter. 

"  You  are  very  necessary  to  your  father,"  he 
said ;  "  but  for  poor  Ralph,  I  think  if  you  know 
that  he  is  tenderly  cared  for  and  watched  over, 
as  I  need  not  assure  you  he  will  be,  I  do  not 
think  you  need  be  unhappy  or  feel  that  you  are 
not  doing  your  duty.     You  will  receive  reports 


PARTING.  297 

of  his  state  at  regular  intervals,  and  if  at  any 
time  there  is  any  improvement  or  hope  of  it,  you 
should  know  at  once.     Will  you  trust  me  ?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  I  will  trust  you.  May  I  see 
him  once  before  he  goes  ?  " 

"If  you  wish  it  very  much,"  he  answered 
gently ;  "  but  if  you  will  take  my  advice  and 
trust  me  in  this  too,  I  think  you  had  better  not. 
Think  of  him  still  as  the  frank,  pleasant,  bright- 
faced,  young  fellow  you  have  known  him.  Do 
you  know  that  to  me  Ralph  seems  to  have  gone 
as  entirely  as  the  summer  and  the  sunshine  and 
the  beauty  of  everything.  There  is  no  good  to 
be  gained  by  having  that  memory  of  him 
deformed  and  defaced  by  the  sight  of  him  as  he 
is  now.     Poor  fellow,  he  is  terribly  changed." 

And  in  this  again  Dear  trusted  Oliver 
Meredith,  and,  in  the  quiet  years  that  followed, 
when  she  thought  of  or  prayed  for  her  young 
husband,  it  was  with  the  memory  of  a  boyish 
bright  face,  and  eyes  full  of  affection,  and  smiling 
lips  ready  always  with  frank  pleasant  words — not 
always  very  wise,  but  kind  and  cheery  ;  and  only 


298  DEAR. 

Oliver  and  Duncan  really  knew  the  sad  reality 
of  imbecility  and  weakness,  the  body,  the  dust 
of  the  earth,  without  the  living  soul,  the  breath 
of  life  ;  the  poor  human  coin  from  which  the 
Divine  image  had  been  obliterated.  Surely  in 
all  the  perplexities  of  this  "  unintelligible  world  " 
this  is  one  of  the  most  mysterious,  when  the 
reason  returns  to  God  who  gave  it. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

MEETING. 

"  O  that  'twere  possible 

After  long  grief  and  pain, 
To  find  the  arms  of  my  true  love 

Round  me  once  again. " — Tennyson. 

'"PEN  years  is  a  long  time  out  of  any  one's 
life,  and  yet  that  early  spring  day,  when 
Oliver  Meredith  came  over  the  hill  from  Cheriton 
and  stood  once  more  looking  down  on  Kings- 
combe,  the  ten  years  seemed  but  a  few  days,  or 
rather,  perhaps,  a  few  months,  for  it  was  damp 
misty  autumn  when  he  parted  from  Dear  and  a 
few  days  later  travelled  away  from  Kingscombe, 
and  now  it  was  spring,  and  in  between  had  lain 
dark  winter  months,  gloomy  and  sunless  and  cold. 
Winter  months  are  apt  to  seem  long,  are  they 
not,  with  their  monotonous  days  of  short  grudg- 

(299) 


3°0  DEAR. 

ing  daylight,  and  the  long,  long  darkness  ?  There 
had  plainly  been  snow  in  those  winter  months, 
for  Oliver  Meredith's  hair  was  nearly  white,  and 
his  eyes  had  a  tired  look  as  from  long  watching 
and  close  study  and  little  sunshine.  April  sun- 
shine is  not  as  a  rule  very  brilliant,  but  to-day 
it  seemed  to  dazzle  and  fret  his  eyes,  and  he 
had  lost  that  power,  which  had  developed  so 
largely  in  Dear's  company,  of  noticing  little 
things  that  were  beautiful  and  sweet  in  nature ; 
he  passed  unnoticed  the  tufts  of  sweet  pale 
primroses  in  the  banks,  the  silver  clear  song  of 
a  wren  was  unheeded ;  he  did  not  look  at  the 
blue  shadows  under  the  elms  made  by  the  blue- 
bells growing  so  thickly,  or  at  the  little  thick- 
legged  clumsy  lambs,  leaping  clear  off  the  ground 
in  their  light-hearted  gambols  ;  his  foot  kicked 
against  a  tasselled  cowslip,  and  he  never  glanced 
down  at  its  freckles,  or  up  at  the  lark  that  sprang 
from  the  grass  before  him  ;  he  did  not  appreciate 
the  soft  elasticity  of  the  turf  he  trod  on,  or  the 
infinite  variety  of  sweet  scents  of  growth  and 
blossom  that  were  in  the  balmy  spring  air. 


MEETING.  3QI 

He  had  grown  so  used  to  only  taking  exercise 
in  a  perfunctory  manner,  a  constitutional  of  so 
many  miles,  generally  alone,  when  his  mind  was 
still  full  of  his  scientific  studies,  and  he  was 
hardly  conscious  of  outside  things,  so  oblivious 
of  them,  indeed,  that  he  would  pass  acquaint- 
ances unnoticed,  or  even  run  up  against  other 
pedestrians  who  did  not  get  out  of  his  way. 
And,  if  he  walked  in  company,  he  had  few 
friends*  but  scientific  ones,  and  so  the  talk  fell 
into  the  same  groove,  and  it  did  not  much 
matter  whether  the  body  were  walking  on  a 
straight  dull  country  road,  or  along  the  streets 
of  a  town,  or  in  the  midst  of  beautiful  scenery. 

As  he  came  in  sight  of  Kingscombe  to-day 
he  became  suddenly  conscious  of  this  dullness 
and  want  of  perception  in  himself,  and  he 
stopped  and  passed  his  hands  over  his  eyes,  as 
though  there  were  an  actual  film  that  obscured 
the  fairness  and  brightness  of  the  world.  Perhaps 
there  had  been,  if  not  physical,  at  any  rate 
mental,  for  when  he  looked  again  the  beauty  of 
it  all  seemed  to  come  with  a  rush  into  his  heart, 


3°2  DEAR. 

with  a  fullness  that  seemed  to  choke  him  and 
take  away  his  breath. 

The  great  generous  stretch  of  sky,  softly  blue 
with  masses  of  fleecy  white  cloud  tossed  about 
on  it,  throwing  shadows  on  the  broad  rich- 
colored  ploughed  fields  and  on  the  meadows 
recovering  from  their  winter  brownness,  and  on 
one  or  two  patches  of  some  early  rye-grass  of 
incredibly  vivid  green.  Down  along  the  river 
the  willows  were  coral  red,  with  the  sap  rising 
in  their  branches,  and  among  the  beautiful 
indigo-blue  depths  of  the  leafless  woods  the 
nut-bushes'  green  tassels  made  a  show  even  from 
this  distance,  and  here  and  there  the  sturdy 
obstinate  oaks  kept  their  last  year's  leaves  and 
made  a  patch  of  rich  russet.  A  week  or  two 
later  a  soft  green  veil  would  be  cast  over  the  elm 
trees  down  below,  but  now  at  this  distance  they 
looked  bare,  and  the  cottages  in  Kingscombe 
showed  more  plainly  from  the  hill  now  there  was 
no  foliage  to  hide  them.  He  recognized  all  the 
old  familiar  landmarks  ;  it  was  pleasant  to  find 
how  few  he  had  forgotten.     There  was  never  a 


MEETING.  3°3 

day  in  all  these  ten  years  that  he  had  not  allowed 
himself  a  few  minutes  to  go  back  and  recall  it  all, 
little  detcfls  insignificant  and  trifling,  but  filling 
in  the  background  in  the  picture  of  the  woman 
he  loved.  He  liked  to  think  that  he  could  de- 
tect— so  well  had  he  got  it  all  by  heart — that 
the  ivy  had  grown  more  thickly  over  the  church, 
that  a  fresh  thatch  had  been  put  here  and  tiles 
there,  and  a  little  new  shed  had  been  added  at 
the  side  of  the  forge. 

It  was  just  here  he  had  stood  when  the  sound 
of  the  wedding-bells  had  suddenly  struck  upon 
his  ear  and  roused  no  apprehension  of  the  dire- 
ful event.  There  below  was  the  triangular 
piece  of  ground  where  the  little  boy,  scaring  the 
birds,  had  been  the  first  to  give  him  the  over- 
whelming news.  How  often  had  that  ground 
been  ploughed  and  sowed  and  reaped  since  then  ? 
That  little  boy,  if  he  still  lived,  must  be  a  grown- 
up man  now,  married  perhaps  himself  with  all 
'that  merry  clanging  of  bells,  which  had  seemed 
so  exhilarating  to  him  then.  If  he  still  lived  ! 
that  sent  a  sudden  pang   through  Oliver's  heart. 


304  DEAR. 

What  if  one  of  those  bells  that  rang  out  so 
merrily  then,  should  toll  now  the  heavy  message 
of  death  ?  Death  is  so  near  each  one  of  us,  why 
should  not  his  hand  fall  on  one  as  well  as  on 
another  ? 

Oliver  had  heard  nothing  directly  of  Dear 
for  ten  years  ;  indirectly  he  had  heard  that  she 
was  still  at  Kingscombe,  at  any  rate  she  was 
there  a  month  ago,  when  poor  Ralph  Maddison 
died  or  rather  ceased  to  die,  for  all  those  sad 
years  had  been  slow  death  of  mind  and  body. 
It  had  been  debated  whether  the  poor  worn-out 
body  should  be  brought  home  and  laid  by  his 
father  in  Kingscombe  churchyard,  but  Lady 
Trevor  decided  that  he  should  be  laid  in  the 
English  cemetery  at  Florence,  where  he  died. 
No  doubt  her  decision  was  very  sensible,  for 
what  does  it  really  matter  where  the  poor  dust 
mingles  with  its  kind  ?  and  Oliver  agreed  in  the 
good  sense  of  the  arrangement,  and  said  not  a 
word  of  his  own  feeling  that  Ralph — I  mean 
the  old,  boyish  Ralph,  who  went  away  with  the 
summer   and   the   sunshine,    ten    years   before, 


MEETING.  3°5 

and  who  seemed  to  come  back  directly  the  last 
painful  breath  was  drawn — Ralph  would  have 
liked  to  be  laid  in  the  little  churchyard  under 
the  hill  at  Kingscombe,  where  he  had  been  so 
happy,  with  Dear,  whom  he  had  loved  in  his 
simple,  boyish  way,  and  whom  he  never  of  his 
own  free  will  would  have  injured,  to  stand  by 
his  grave,  and  the  villagers  gathered  round  in 
respectful  sorrow  for  the  poor,  young  master. 
But  Lady  Trevor  decided  otherwise,  and  the 
funeral  had  to  take  place  too  quickly  to  allow 
of  either  her  or  Dear  coming ;  so  Oliver  and 
Duncan  were  the  only  friends  present,  as  they 
had  been  through  all  the  weakness  and  suffering 
of  the  past  ten  years. 

Mrs.  Maddison  had  married  Sir  John  Trevor, 
five  years  before.  Report  said  she  had  not  a 
very  happy  life  with  the  baronet,  who  was  given 
to  strong  waters  and  coarse  language,  and  with 
whom  it  was  a  favorite  joke,  my  lady's  superi- 
ority to  himself  in  the  matter  of  age.  Any 
small  vanity  she  had  on  this  point  was  fetched 
effectually  out  of  her  before  they  had  been 
20 


306  DEAR. 

married  a  twelvemonth,  and  now  Lady  Trevor 
appears  as  a  middle-aged  woman,  and  to  my 
mind,  and  to  Oliver's  too,  looks  far  better  and 
more  dignified  than  in  the  days  of  her  assumed 
girlishness. 

Oliver  had  seen  from  time  to  time  notices  of 
Clive's  successes,  proving  that  that  part  of  the 
bargain  had  been  honestly  kept,  and  he  had  met 
Cambridge  men  who  had  told  him  how  the 
awkward,  discontented  boy  had  changed,  like 
the  ugly  duck,  which  developed  into  the  beauti- 
ful white  swan,  spreading  its  wings  in  the  sun- 
shine of  opportunity.  And  in  one  of  the  notices 
of  Clive,  I  think  it  was  when  he  was  senior 
wrangler,  he  had  been  spoken  of  as  the  son  of 
the  late  Rev.  Michael  Hume,  so  Oliver  knew 
that  the  old  man  had  gone  to  rejoin  his  wife. 

"  He  will  have  such  a  little  way  to  go,"  Dear 
had  said  once,  talking  of  the  time  when  her 
father  would  leave  her,  and  the  old  hackneyed 
phrase  of  consolation,  "It  is  his  gain,  though 
it  is  our  loss,"  seemed  to  have  a  reality  in  it, 
which  it  does  not  always  bear. 


MEETING.  3°7 

But  oh  !  the  loss  !  It  was  almost  more  than 
Oliver  could  endure  to  think  of,  when  before  his 
mind's  eye  came  the  memory  of  the  old  gray 
head  resting  against  the  girl's  arm,  and  the  love 
in  Dear's  face  as  she  looked  down  at  it. 

He  knew  quite  well  that,  such  being  the  case 
Dear  would  no  longer  be  at  the  vicarage,  that 
another  vicar  was  at  Kingscombe,  another  voice 
in  the  little  church,  another  figure  going  in  and 
out  among  the  cottagers,  and  ministering  to 
their  spiritual  wants ;  and  yet  it  gave  him  as 
great  a  shock,  as  if  indeed  the  knell  had  tolled 
out  as  he  stood  listening  on  the  hill,  when  he 
drew  near  the  vicarage,  to  see  a  substantial 
clerical  form  come  out  of  the  well-remembered 
little  gate,  a  country  parson  of  the  period, 
athletic  and  muscular,  with  a  beard  and  a  broad 
brimmed  hat,  and  it  seemed  downright  profana- 
tion, when  two  laughing  girls,  tennis  racquet  in 
hand,  looked  over  the  garden  hedge  and  called 
out  some  girlish  nonsense  to  their  father,  checked 
by  the  unusual  sight  of  a  strange  gentleman 
passing    up  the    village    street,  who,  no    doubt 


308  DEAR. 

glared  at  them  in  a  manner  unusual  and  uncalled 
for. 

He  passed  on,  hardly  knowing  why,  to  the 
church.  In  the  churchyard  there  were  many 
fresh  graves  since  he  last  stood  there,  and  on 
one  green  mound,  without  even  a  headstone  to 
mark  the  place,  was  a  dainty  fresh  wreath  of 
primroses,  looking  as  if  it  had  just  been  laid 
there.  There  was  no  need  to  ask  whose  handi- 
work it  was,  for  each  tender  flower-stalk  and 
crinkled  leaf  was  in  damp  moss. 

"  That  be  the  ould  parson's  grave,"  a  cracked 
old  voice  quavered  at  his  elbow.  "  You  be  a 
stranger  in  these  parts,  I  take  it,  and  maybe  you 
ain't  heerd  tell  of  Parson  Hume.  He  were  a 
man,  sure-lie." 

It  was  old  Grimby  the  sexton,  and  he  was 
peering  up  at  Oliver  with  his  bleared,  old  eyes, 
rheumy  with  age,  as  if  he  half  recognized  the  face. 

"Not  as  I'd  say  nothing  agin  the  new  parson, 
as  is  all  very  well  in  his  way,  but  he  ain't  the  old 
one  nor  nothing  like.  I  mind  un  when  he  first 
come  with  Master  Clive,  he  as  has  done  great 


MEETING.  3°9 

things,  folks  say,  up  to  College,  and  were  only  a 
babby  then,  and  Miss  Dear — begging  her  par- 
don, Mrs.  Maddison,  the  young  lady,  you  know, 
sir,  maybe  you've  a-heerd  tell  of  her  marrying 
the  young  Squire — " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  Oliver  interrupted  the  garrulous, 
old  tongue.     "  Where  is  she  now  ?  " 

"  Why  at  the  Manor,  for  sure.  She  moved  up 
there  when  the  ould  parson  went,  and  there  she 
be  now,  with  only  just  Patty  to  see  to  her  since 
Mrs.  Lynch  were  took  off  sudden  with  brong- 
typhus.  Its  terrible  lonesome  for  her,  sure-lie, 
except  when  Master  Clive  come  down,  and  that's 
not  often  now,  but  she  never  seems  mopish  like 
some,  bless  her  !  If  you  was  minded  to  step  that 
way,  sir,  'tis  a  fine  old  place,  and  I'd  come  along 
and  show  you  round,  as  there  ain't  no  objection 
to  parties  seeing  the  place." 

But  Oliver  could  not  reduce  his  pace  to  suit 
the  old  man's  hobbling  progress,  so  they  parted 
company,  with  a  good  many  "  Thank  ye  kindly, 
sirs,"  and  touchings  of  the  hat  on  the  part  of  old 
Grimby,  and  an  immediate  making   off   to  the 


3IO  DEAR. 

Bush  to  drink  his  health.  And  Oliver  went  on 
alone  towards  the  Manor,  across  the  park,  the 
very  way  Ralph  had  been  carried  on  his  wed- 
ding day ;  but  he  turned  aside  when  he  reached 
the  front  entrance  and  went  into  the  rose  garden, 
the  way  little  Dear  had  gone  in  her  drab  pelisse, 
on  her  first  visit.  On  the  rose  branches  he 
noticed  the  young  buds,  strong  and  vigorous, 
beginning  to  unfold  into  small  tender  leaves, 
telling  of  the  coming  June,  and  all  the  beauty 
and  brightness  of  summer  time. 

On  the  terrace  the  anemones  were  dazzling  to 
behold  in  the  bright  sun,  scarlet  and  purple  and 
white,  with  a  background  of  golden  jonquils,  and 
there  was  a  thrush  singing  its  heart  out  on  the 
balustrade  by  the  steps  where  he  had  first  seen 
Dear,  a  song  of  spring  after  winter,  love  after 
loneliness,  praise  after  patience.  He  went  on — 
what  led  him  ? — down  the  steps,  through  the 
kitchen  garden,,  where  the  bees  were  humming 
round  the  great  bushes  of  wall-flower,  and  neat 
lines  of  very  youthful  vegetables  were  becoming 
apparent  across  the  brown  mould. 


MEETING.  311 

A  new  strange  gardener  turned  from  his  hoe- 
ing and  stared  at  this  calm  intruder,  who  walked 
along  the  mossy  path  as  if  the  whole  place 
belonged  to  him. 

At  the  white  gate  into  the  orchard  an  Alder- 
ney  cow  stood,  as  if  on  purpose  to  recall  the  day 
when,  perhaps,  its  mother  or  grandmother  was 
caressed  by  tender  hands,  but  he  pushed  its 
gentle,  greedy  nose  aside,  and  passed  on  into  the 
orchard,  where,  on  the  twisted  and  lichen-covered 
branches,  showed  gray-green  buds,  with  here  and 
there  a  hint  of  pink  to  prepare  poor,  dull,  wintry 
hearts  for  the  glory  of  blossom  that  a  few  more 
days  would  bring. 

She  was  there,  a  slight  figure  in  black,  stand- 
ing by  that  very  tree  where  they  had  sat  ten 
years  before,  when  Mrs.  Maddison's  coming  had 
interrupted  his  words.  Simple  black,  no  heavy 
widows'  weeds.  She  had  taken  off  her  hat,  and 
as  she  stood  with  the  sunlight  on  her  soft  hair, 
she  looked  as  young  as  she  had  done  when  he 
saw  her  last,  and  when  she  turned  at  the  sound 
of  his  step,  it  was  the  very  same  face,  gentle  and 


2,12  DEAR. 

fair  and  sweet,  with  the  same  great  soft  eyes  that 
lit  up  at  sight  of  him  from  their  quiet  sadness 
into  great  joy. 

And  then  he  had  her  hand  in  his,  and  all  the 
trouble  and  weary  waiting  were  at  an  end,  and 
he  could  speak  at  last.     And  he  said,  "  Dear." 


THE  END. 


<H9r&  mc$$c\§otft$  ^toric^ 


"  The  sparrow  again  waited  until  the  child  had  almost  reached  him. 


SPARROW  THE  TRAMP.    V"  cwS 

hoeft.     With  illustrations  by  Jessie  McDermott.     Price,  $1.25. 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON 


JOLLY    GOOD    TIMES; 


OR, 


CHILD    LIFE    ON    A    FARM. 


By  P.   THORNE.      Price  $1.25. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS.  Publishers, 


The  Kingdom  of  Coins. 

a  SCale  for  ffifjtlStm  of  Sill  9gc9. 
By  JOHN  BEADLEY  GILMAN 

ILLUSTRATED    BY    F.  T.   MERRILL. 


It  is  an  ingenious  story  of  a  little  boy  who  falls  asleep  while 
clutching  a  penny,  and  dreams  that  he  meets  Mr.  Midas,  and  by 
hint  is  conducted  to  the  Kingdom  of  Coins,  where  he  is  taught,  in 
an  object-lesson  manner,  the  proverbs  of  the  people  in  regard  to 
money.  "  Penny-wise  and pound-foolish,"  "  A  penny  saved  is  a 
penny  earned^  and  other  saws  are  thus  impressed  upon  him. 

The  book  is   readable  and  does  not   smack  of  the  worn-out 

(airy-tale.  —  The  Epoch. 


Small  4to,  illuminated  board  covers.    Price,  60  cents. 

ROBERTS  BROTHERS,  Boston. 


PRINCE    VANCE. 

A  Story  of  a  Prince  with  a   Court   in  His  Box.      By  Eleanor 
Putnam  and  Arlo  Bates.     Illustrated  by  Frank  Myrick. 


"  Prince  Vance"  is  an  Entertaining  Fairy  Story  of  the  wildest  and  most 
fantastic  adventures  and  of  amusirrg  and  original  impossibilities,  which, 
however,  carry  with  them  a  stern  puritan  moral.  This  allegiance  of  un~ 
fettered  imagination  and  straightforward ',  wholesome,  moral  teaching  is 
unusual,  and  gives  the  little  book  a  special  value. 

Small  4to.     Cloth  gilt.     Price,  $1.50. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Boston. 


In  Stanley's  Dark   Country. 


'^MMm 


KIBBOO   GANEY; 

OR,  THE  LOST  CHIEF  OF  THE  COPPER  MOUN- 
TAINS. A  Story  of  travel  and  adventure  in  the  heart  of 
Africa.    By  Walter  Wentworth. 

]6mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.    Price,  $1.25. 

ROBERTS   BROTHERS,  Boston. 


By  the  Author  of  "Jolly  Good  Times." 

THEIR  CANOE  TRIP 

By    MARY    P.   W.    SMITH, 

AUTHOR  OF   THE   "BROWNS." 


A  story  founded  on  the  actual  experiences  of  two  Roxbury  boys,  during  a 
canoe  trip  on  the  Concord,  Merrimac,  Piscataquog,  and  other  rivers. 

16mo.      Cloth.     Price,  $1.25. 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS.  Boston- 


LOUISA  M.  ALCOTT'S  STORY-BOOKS, 


A  CHRISTMAS    DREAM. 


LULU'S     LIBRARY. 

A.    COLLECTION    OF    STORIES    BY    "AUNT    JO, 
With  Illustrations  by  Jessie  McDermott. 

3  vols.    l6mo.    Cloth.     Price,  $1.00  per  volume. 


ROBERTS   BROTHERS,   PUBLISHERS, 

BOSTON. 


MRS.    EWINC'S    LAST    BOOK. 


^  7k 


JACKANAPES. 

DADDY   DARWIN'S   DOVECOT. 

THE    STORY   OF  A   SHORT  LIFE 

With  a  Sketch  of  Mrs.  Ewing's  Life  by  her  Sister,  H.  K,  P.  Gatty. 

in  one  volume,  with  Illustrations  by  Randolph  Caldecott  and  Gordon 
Browne.     Price,  50  cents. 


ROBERTS    BROTHERS.    BOSTON. 


